


Look After You

by draronoliver



Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Between tst and tdc, First Kiss, First Love, Flashbacks of the scorch, Friends to Lovers, In the safe haven, M/M, Minho is determined, Newt Lives, Newt maybe gets his memory back, Safe Haven (Maze Runner), Thomas is doubtful, Thomas thinks he lost the love of his life, after all this time, but he's still alive!, flashbacks with fluff, newt lost his memory, newtmas - Freeform, surprise no surprise he didn’t, thomas is oblivious
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2019-08-27 15:45:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 136,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16705264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draronoliver/pseuds/draronoliver
Summary: -In the Safe Haven, Thomas is told that Newt may still be alive. Thomas, who watched Newt “die”, believes that it’s a lie. There’s no way that Newt lived...right?Thomas can't help but still be in love with Newt, even after all this time.





	1. night sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story will have present day scenes, along with memories that Thomas has with Newt.  
> ***  
> This story follows the sequence of three parts to every chapter:
> 
> Present day  
> -  
> A good memory of the two  
> -  
> A bad memory of the two
> 
> *******there will be time jumps, as we are reading random memories that appear in thomas’s head as he remembers them.

 

**PRESENT DAY**

5 MONTHS AFTER THE BURNING OF WCKD

**-**

 

 

Thomas felt as if there was a haze covering his every thought. Every moment that passed since Newt’s death didn’t seem right - didn’t seem real. He didn’t feel as if anything was real. Everything felt like a nightmare, almost as if he couldn’t seem to wake up. 

He thought about Newt a lot. He thought about how Newt could make him smile in an situation. He thought how Newt stayed by his side, never doubting him and ever so trusting. Thomas knew that he didn’t deserve him, knew that he had Newt in his life by some miracle. He was the glue in his life, holding everything together.

Thomas could never get over the fact that his glue had dried out and had been scratched away.

It wasn’t until the moment that he had to be dragged away from Newt’s body that Thomas realized that he was the love of his life. It took him a while, unable to take the time to think of it before. It had always been  _survive, survive._ It was never time to think about him and Newt. Sure, Thomas knew things were different with him - knew that there was always something just out of his reach. He knew that there had been something clinging to the back of his mind, after all this time. 

He had  _seen_ Newt become one of  _them._ He had seen the animalistic look in his eyes. Thomas knew he was gone.

He had been dragged away from his best friend. He had bled everywhere from a wound on his shoulder from Janson’s knife. He watched his own blood spill all over Newt, almost turning his WCKD uniform completely dark and soaked through.

That’s why, when Minho and Jorge sat him down, telling him that one of their men may have seen a glimpse of him on their night watch, he didn’t believe it for a moment. 

“Thomas, did you hear what I said?”

The hazy thoughts in Thomas’s mind seemed to shift slightly in order to let Minho’s voice flow through. Although he was listening, only just slightly, he couldn’t bring himself to look up from Minho and Jorge’s feet. 

He studied their dirty boots as they sat across from him on the other bunk. Thomas, his mind scattered everywhere, couldn’t seem to think of anything else besides the dirt caked onto Minho’s shoe. Couldn’t he clean it?  

Jorge and Minho glanced at each other, hesitant. They were getting used to Thomas not being all the way present. He seemed to only talk about the most mundane things, nothing of importance, when he bothered to speak at all. The fact that the two men were getting used to it scared them to death.

Thomas wasn’t who he was before. He hadn’t been in 5 months.   

“Thomas,” Jorge said, gently and reassuringly. “Thomas, listen to me.”

Thomas nodded, signaling that he was. Even though what they were saying was a load of shit. Of course Newt wasn’t alive. He had left him to die on that burning roof - soaked in Thomas’s blood. 

“One of our men was on night watch last night. He said a group of people passed right by his lookout. There were about 5 of them. He specially heard...his name. Newt’s name. He said that it was a blonde, tall boy.”

Thomas had laughed at the sound of Newt's name. It was a quiet laugh, more of huffs of breath through his nose. He cocked his head, smiling a sad smile. Minho and Jorge shared another glance. 

“Thomas, I’m going to go look for him, and I want you to come. I want you to come with me. They have to be close, they have to be somewhere around here. There’s an abandoned city close by, there are cabins near the mountains, there are so many places that the people here haven't explored. There are no threats out there besides the infected now, with WCKD gone. I want you to come with me.”

Thomas didn’t laugh this time. 

Go with him? To look for a ghost?

”He’s dead, Minho.”

The sentence left the room silent for a moment. It hung in the air, almost suffocating, as if was threatening to collapse the whole building.

Thomas couldn’t seem to get it through his head that Minho lost his best friend too. Minho was grieving too. They may be dealing with it in different ways, Minho holding onto hope, and Thomas giving up completely. Anger flashed through Minho’s eyes, anger and hurt. Thomas didn’t seem to notice, too caught up in trying to retreat back into the haze that settled in his mind. Tried to retreat from himself, from everything around him. Tried not to feel anything.

He continued to stare at Minho’s boots.

Couldn’t he just _clean_ _them?_

”We don’t know that. This was too specific of a coincidence. He said things that we have never told him about Newt, he knew what he looked-” Minho’s voice was cold and angry before he was cut off by Thomas. 

”We would be going off of a night watch’s word...? Words mean nothing. There’s no proof. He’s dead.”

Jorge could feel Minho’s anger rising. As he looked back at Minho, who’s eyes were blazing as they glared at Thomas, he decided to take a turn.

Minho’s hands clenched onto the soft blanket that he was sitting on. He was beyond upset - beyond _heartbroken_.

He had already lost Newt, and he was losing Thomas with every day that passed. Every second that passed. 

”You have been sitting around doing nothing for months. You need to get out and  _do_ something. You need to take the time and actually clear your mind. Try to _heal_. Go with Minho. You don’t have to believe him. Just go to actually get out. Go to try and find yourself. You won’t find yourself here, sitting around and wallowing,” Jorge advised, eyes trained onto Thomas. His voice had been gentle, comforting almost. He was worried how Thomas would react. He expected anger.

Thomas stood up and walked out of the cabin.

 

 

 

 

 **10 MONTHS BEFORE PRESENT TIME**  
3:48 AM

5 MONTHS BEFORE THE BURNING OF WCKD/NEWT'S "DEATH"

 

 

They had been on the road for two days now, driving non-stop through the blazing heat of The Scorch. They had only stopped for a refill of gas at an abandoned town, then were back on their way. Everyone was beyond exhausted, unable to get a proper nights sleep. They were only allowed a small space of time to nap as they drove, which wasn't enough. When they finally found a good enough spot to camp out in, hidden between a few mountains, they decided to finally rest. 

Newt unraveled his sleeping bag on Thomas's left side, as he always did every night. He was sloppy in his movements as Thomas watched him, obviously overcome with exhaustion. Thomas's eyes were already halfway shut with his own tiredness. As soon as Newt adjusted himself, sliding his long limbs into the sleeping bag, he pulled his legs to his chest. He was now facing Thomas, blonde locks spilling all over his head. 

Newt adjusted his head slowly onto the sleeping bag, his eyes glazed over and extremely red. The moonlight spilled over the features on his face, making them look sharp and defined. From stress, lack of food, or lack of sleep, Thomas wasn’t sure. He didn’t like the look of Newt’s face like this. Surely, it hadn’t always been this sharp, right?

Thomas lifted an arm to tuck under his head, elevating it a bit higher than Newt’s. He had to turn his head down slightly to stare down at the blonde.

“You know what?” Thomas said into the night, almost to himself. He stared down at Newt as he stayed silent, relishing in Thomas’s words. He paid so much attention to the brunette, and Thomas wasn’t used to that. “I think you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

Newt’s jaw clenched the slightest bit. If the moonlight wasn’t illuminating his face, Thomas wouldn’t even have been able to tell. The blondes eyes were locked to his, expression unreadable. “Yeah?”

“Before the maze. I believe you were my best friend there too. At least the best friend I’ve ever had before whatever shitty thing happened to this world. Before the Flare. I feel as if you’ll always be the best friend I could ever ask for. Forever, you will be, Newt.”

Newt seemed shocked at the boys declaration. His brows furrowed slightly in the darkness, dark eyes switching quickly back and forth between Thomas’s. His lips parted slightly, as if to speak, but no words came out. The night breeze ruffled the two boys’ hair, the wind sliding into their sleeping bags and around the sleeping bodies next to them. Thomas was so tired, he was feeling his eyes close on him in the warm breeze. He had almost forgotten that he was speaking to Newt.

Sleep was trying to overwhelm him, and it fogged his brain the slightest bit. They had stayed awake for almost two days straight, and Thomas had been practically hallucinating the whole day today. For some reason, though, Thomas felt as if he needed to tell Newt. Brenda was right. The words she had spoken earlier swam through his exhausted brain. Tell the people now how much they mean. Don’t regret not telling them when it’s too late.

When they aren’t there anymore for you to tell them.

“Yeah?” Newt whispered once more into the light breeze, his word almost being carried away into the night along with it. Thomas’s eyes were halfway closed, but he nodded into the soft sleeping bag.

“Yeah.”

Thomas’s eyes were fully closed then. He felt the warm breeze drift him closer and closer to slumber. Finally, he would sleep. Finally.

“I think so too,” Newt muttered. His voice was deep and unsure. Thomas could feel his unease even a foot away from him. It was as if the blonde was contemplating each word.

Had they been that close a few moments ago?

“Yeah?” Thomas took his turn on the question, took his turn on the word.

“Yeah.” There was a pause. There was a hesitation. It hung in the air like a rubber band, about to snap. “I’ll follow you anywhere, Tommy. You know that.”

His breath was so close that it fanned across Thomas’s face. It tickled his face and sent chills down his spine that had nothing to do with the cold. Thomas opened his eyes slowly, hesitantly. Newt’s face was so close, much closer than it had been a few moments ago. Thomas glanced down, realizing it was him who had moved. He was sliding onto Newt’s sleeping bag. He was very far from Brenda now, who lay on his right side. Thomas’s eyes flickered back into those dark eyes in front of him, lit up in the moonlight.

‘I never want to leave this moment,’ Thomas thought. His thoughts ran a million miles in his head, the realization pressing deep into his chest and spreading like a flame. He never wanted to let this moment go.

“I don’t either,” The words were spilling onto Thomas’s face then, too close. Too close. Oh, he had spoken his thought aloud. Newt had answered him. Thomas ignored his slight embarrassment and realized his eyes had closed again on their own accord, sleep tugging them closed once again. When he opened his eyes, Newt was closer than he had ever been before. He could see the light, barely there freckles spilling under the boys eyes. Thomas had never noticed them before. He has never been this close before. Thomas vaguely wondered if anyone had been this close to Newt’s face before. The weight on his chest pressed tighter.

Thomas felt his hand move outward on its own accord, fingertips gently brushing against the blondes knuckles. Newt glanced down, the movement of his head making the sleeping bag release a scratching noise that seemed much too loud for this moment. His eyes were trained on the soft movements of Thomas’s fingers, which gently traced and felt the soft skin. Thomas had never touched anyone this gently before. This cold, awful world was filled with hatred and violence. Thomas wondered if Newt had ever been touched this softly before.

Thomas felt his heartbeat in his ears, felt it in his throat. Newt’s breath was still spilling against his own mouth, the shivers in his spine overwhelming. Thomas felt as if his whole entire body was in flames. With the light warm breeze and the close proximity of the boy, Thomas felt exhaustion pull his eyes closed once more. Thomas’s fingers stopped their motion slowly. Thomas felt Newt’s breathing become slower along with his, sleep finding the other boy as well.

Thomas’s head, since it was slightly more elevated than the blondes, tilted downwards towards the boy. Slowly, so slowly that he didn’t even register it doing so.

Thomas felt a warm pressure against his mouth. His lips parted slightly without his knowledge, without his consent. Newt’s breath mixed with his, the boys becoming one. Thomas didn’t know who had leaned in first - maybe both boys together. He wasn’t sure, and he was very sure he didn’t care. Did he really feel Newt’s mouth graze against his, or was it his hallucinations from his exhaustion again like earlier? Thomas realized that he wished more than anything that this was really happening.

Both boys seemed to slowly and softly move at the same time. Both boys lips were parted, and gently closed around each other. Newt’s mouth was open for him, warm and inviting. It was so gentle and so careful; so hesitant. Neither boy had the slightest idea if it was really happening, or if the exhaustion had creeped from their eyelids to the edge of their brain, tugging at all the wrong strings and desires that were hanging in that tight rubber band between them in the night sky.

Thomas couldn’t help but think how real it felt. Newt’s mouth was so warm and soft. So so warm. He smelled the usual scent of vanilla that seemed to follow Newt around all the time. He also finally seemed to taste a bit as well. It was the most beautiful feeling, the most beautiful taste. Thomas was sure that in all of his years of living, before the maze, before the scorch, before the flare, he had never experienced anything this amazing and gentle in his life.

The boys gently parted after their brief meeting. The silent and gentle kiss had lasted less time than a breath of air. In the night sky, the rubber band softened in the stars above them. Although they barely kissed, just a brush of lips, both boys couldn’t help a small smile pull at the edge of their mouths. Newt was still so close to Thomas that he felt the slight motion of the small smile against his lips. The exhaustion won, Thomas finally falling asleep, an inch away from Newt. In the night, without his knowledge, Thomas’s fingers had found Newt’s once more. The boys fell asleep, noses brushing against each other with every slight movement. Their bodies remained a foot apart, although it seemed miles away in the night sky under the stars.

Neither boy brought it up the next day. Both assumed it was the exhaustion setting in, both assuming that the moment wasn’t real.

The thought of it alone sent Thomas’s head spinning with confusion and left his heart and chest heavy.

Thomas pushed it down, deep into his mind, knowing he was unable to think of it again. He couldn’t think about it, couldn’t question the thoughts running through his mind. WCKD made sure of that.

 

 

 

 

 

 **5 MONTHS BEFORE PRESENT TIME**  
11:32 PM

THE BURNING OF WCKD/NEWT'S "DEATH"  
_

 

Thomas awoke slowly. He felt bumps every once in a while, jostling him slowly from his deep slumber. He hadn’t even known that he had fallen unconscious, due to the bleeding in his shoulder. The sticky, thick substance was heavy all around the wound. There was a pressure on it, as if there was something there to hold it tight. He heard the berg - felt the cold floor of it rumbling underneath his back.

As soon as his eyes opened, everything came crashing down. All of the previous events that just happened flooded back into his brain. The burning of WCKD. Flames all around, shooting Ava Paige in the head...The Flare finally taking over Newt. 

The last thing that he remembered seeing before he went unconscious was Newt's dying body.

A gasping noise arose in his throat, unable to help himself. He felt Minho’s hands gently patting his back, heard his comforting voice. Everything was tuned out, though, anxiety and fear too busy overwhelming him. The edges of his brain felt fuzzy and in complete shambles. How could he have let this happen, how could he have let his best friend die? How could he ever get over this? Thomas began to shake, began to have what he could only assume was a panic attack.

“We’re safe now.” Minho. “Thomas, we’re finally safe.”

Thomas felt anything but safe. He felt himself shove Minho away from him. He had passed out from blood loss as he was dragged away from Newt's body. If he hadn't fallen unconscious, he would have fought until his last breath to stay there with him. He wouldn't have left without Newt.

Here Minho was, though, perfectly safe and not bleeding out. 

He didn't bring Newt. 

He could hear someone talking to him, although the voice seemed as if it was trapped in a bubble. All noise, even the loud roaring of the berg, seemed distant and off. He felt hands on his bleeding shoulder - felt more pressure. His vision once more became hazy, a weight building on his chest and constructing his heart.

Randomly, the memory of the boys’ kissing made its way into the front of Thomas’s mind - for the first time since it had happened. He couldn’t help but think about it. He still wasn’t sure if it had happened - if it was truly a dream or not, but the thought alone sent his mind into even more chaos. The thought of their lips together made the confusion in his mind swirl and feel as if they were pressing into all the corners of his head.

At the same time that the memory of the boys kissing arose, so did the memories of Newt not remembering who he was at times when the Flare seemed to take over.

“We are safe Thomas. Please, come back to us. We are all here for you. Please.”

They weren’t safe.

Thomas felt himself throw up, his stomach heaving, although everything was still distant and hazy. He began falling out of consciousness once more. 

They could never be safe again. 

Not without Newt.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reading this story may be confusing st first, with all the time jumps with the memories, but it will all piece together as the chapters progress. Kind of like a puzzle! The main picture will slowly reveal itself. It is a look inside Thomas’s brain as he slowly remembers random memories from before he completely shut down after Newt’s “death”.
> 
> In this story, it focuses a lot about Thomas's mental health. He has been stressed and pulled thin for a long time, and he finally breaks.  
> His thoughts may seem jumbled and confused, because he is not feeling like himself. It will get better eventually.  
> (i.e, when he is thinking about Minho's dirty boots instead of Newt. Little things are always on his mind. His brain is trying to distract him, knowing he wouldn't be able to cope with everything else mentally.)
> 
> This story will have present day scenes, along with memories that Thomas has with Newt.  
> **Each chapter will go in this order:**  
> Present day  
> A happy Newt/Thomas memory  
> A bad Newt/Thomas memory 
> 
> *****time jumps will occur, as we are reading random memories that appear in thomas’s head as he remembers them. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading, and I’m so thankful to have you here if you are.  
> All my love,  
> Amy xx
> 
>  
> 
> -  
> this story is based on a tweet by @themazepunner


	2. our fearless leader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a few minor OC's for the plot, as there were many people already in the Safe Haven.
> 
> This story will have present day scenes, along with memories that Thomas has with Newt.  
> ***  
> This story follows the sequence of three parts to every chapter:
> 
> Present day  
> -  
> A good memory of the two  
> -  
> A bad memory of the two
> 
> ***there will be time jumps, due to us reading random memories from Thomas as he remembers them. The puzzle pieces of his memories will all come together at the end.

 

**PRESENT DAY**

10:43 AM

-

 

Thomas awoke to the birds chirping near the open window. He heard the happy noises of a few of them as they were flying, swooping low around the tree that was right outside. He always woke to the noises from outside now. No one came in and woke him at the same time as everyone else, like they used to try to do.

Everyone had their part here, in the Safe Haven. They all had days to work, certain things to do, specific times to be up, and they all had day off. After a few attempts to try and get him up and working in the morning, everyone realized that it was no use. Thomas _would_ help out, building new huts and cabins, whatever he had to do, but he never socialized. He would never do anything if he was pressured to do it. He would help out and do what was expected of him, but on his own time. 

Everyone let him be the way he was, simply because he had saved everyone. He had saved them all. He had been the leader of the mission that burned the WCKD building to the ground. He had already contributed so much, he had already eliminated the major threat in this awful and already destroyed world. The people in the Safe Haven and whoever else was out there could finally settle down, could finally start a life in this damn awful place. 

As Thomas slowly opened his eyes, the sunlight from the window above him almost blinded him. There was a hazy glow that hung in the air, allowing him to see the particles of dust that floated around. He couldn't help but think about how that was exactly what he felt like. Useless, a piece of dust floating around without purpose.

Every morning, Thomas wouldn't look at the bed next to him. That had always been Newt's spot. He never faced that direction, never dared to. Instead, he fell asleep and woke up facing the wall on the other side. During the night, he put one of his pillows on that side of his head to cover the sight of the other bed, just in case he accidentally turned that way in his sleep. 

He was planning on helping to build that new hut across the way, tired of the way that the younger boys took way too long and joked around the entire time. They had obviously been in the Safe Haven since they were small, not knowing the extent of the outside. They had no idea that this life didn't give you time to joke around and slack off. 

Thomas rose slowly, careful to not look at the empty space next to him.

 

-

 

Thomas was chopping wood for the new cabin when he heard a boy whisper somewhere behind him. Danny, who was maybe around 19, was snickering and talking quickly under his breath. It was an annoying sound, the little field that they were in always seemed to echo. Everything was louder here, as if there were microphones. 

The sun was hot and blazing, and Thomas was sweating. After being out in the Scorch for the amount of time that he had been, the heat made him sick to his stomach. There was dust under his boots that kicked up and swirled around each time he moved, his shirt sticking to him with sweat. There were annoying flies buzzing around, almost as if their sole mission was to annoy the hell out of him. He was already on edge, so when he heard what Danny was whispering, he wasn't surprise at all that he snapped.

"-says that he saved us all, but _shit._ Sleeps all day and doesn't talk. Everyone speaks so highly of him, but he's useless. I bet he didn't do anything out there. He probably took the credit from someone else," Danny laughed. If he had stopped there, Thomas would have ignored it. He didn't care what _Danny_ had to say. Thomas knew what he had done out there. He knew what he had to go through. Danny, though, didn't stop there. 

"And that stupid necklace he wears? What the fuck is that thing. He carries that thing around as if someones fucking _ashes_ are in there-"

Thomas stopped his movements, axe halfway in the air. His heart clenched so hard in his chest that he felt as if someone had stabbed him. Danny stopped talking so quickly it was as if he disappeared into thin air. The air around them seemed to still, the dust even settling around their feet. 

"Do you think he heard you?"

"There's no way. We are all the way back here-"

"Danny, you fucking id-"

Thomas slammed the axe down quickly, the chopping sound that it made echoing around the little field that they were in. The dust around their feet unsettled. The haze in Thomas's mind disappeared. Thomas's mind unhinged. A few elders sitting around looked up from near the other cabins, the noise catching them by surprise. 

The cold metal of the necklace resting between Thomas's collarbones seemed to sear into his skin.

He stared at the axe for a moment, it stuck halfway in the wood. His hand dropped from it, feeling as if he had weights tied around his wrist, unable to keep them up. The axe shook for a moment as it stuck into the log, but kept it's place.

"Thomas?" One of the elders called out, sounding concerned. Thomas didn't look up to see who it was. The elders loved him, all of them knowing exactly what he had done for them. What he had done for all of them. How he burned WCKD to the damn  _ground_  . "Are you okay, dear? Don't listen to what that stupid boy-"

Thomas didn't remember turning around. He didn't remember running up to Danny and throwing himself at him, taking him down to the floor and landing on him as if he was a damn football player. He did remember, though, the way that Danny's head snapped back with the force of his fist slamming into the boys face. He remembered the yells of the others boys. He remembered the way that he relished in beating the shit out of Danny, how _good_ it felt.

He remembered the way that his necklace almost fell out of his shirt. 

Thomas didn't remember being dragged to the leader of the Safe Haven's hut. The next thing that he knew, though, was that he was a heap on his floor. He had blood stained on his hands and soaked through his shirt as if he had spilled a drink on himself. The room smelled faintly like laundry, as if there were a candle burning with that scent. Although the room smelled unnaturally clean, there was a tension in the air that Thomas could feel, as if it was sitting on his shoulders.

He was able to see the legs of a man standing next to him, obviously guarding him. He could tell that it was Minho from the dirty boots. 

"Thomas," The leader, Rafael, said.

Thomas didn't look up at him. He looked down at his hands, looked down at his shirt. That was a lot of blood. 

" _Thomas._ You are going with Minho. This is the last straw." His voice was firm and angry. It shook with rage. "You can no longer be a part of the Safe Haven until you get your act together."

Rafael had every right to hate Thomas. Thomas, after all, _had_ held a gun to his head and threatened to kill him. 

"At least I didn't use the axe," Thomas laughed, unable to help himself. He heard Minho suck in a deep breath. Thomas leaned down and wiped his bloody hands across the tan carpet. No one moved, no one reached out to stop him as he stained it red. He knew he looked crazy and unstable. Maybe he was. 

"You are to listen to my orders. It doesn't matter what you have done before. You are no longer a leader, Thomas. You lost that privilege."

There was a pause. Thomas slowly looked up at him, his hands retreating from the carpet. Rafael, the tall and burly looking man with a hilarious mustache, looked down on him. Physically in this moment, but also in general.

"I never asked to be the leader," Thomas snapped, rage matching Rafael's. 

There was a moment of pity that washed over Rafael's face before it vanished again quickly. His dark eyes darkened even more, staring at Thomas as if he didn't even know what to say to him. Rafael had lost his composure for a moment. Here, no one had ever seen any other side of Thomas - only the lost and quiet version of him. This new side that was slipping out, due to  _Danny,_ was surprising. 

"You are going with Minho. If you don't, you'll be banished. If you come back the same way you are now, defiant and beating up  _children,_ then you will be banished." Rafael turned to Minho, shoulders squared and fists clenched. "This is the last chance to keep him here. If things don't change out there, he'll be gone."

He saw Minho nod from the corner of his eye. 

"I'd rather be banished," Thomas said, voice clear and determined, although he was still a heaped on the floor near their feet. He saw Minho spin towards him, could hear the anger and the brokenness in his voice as he yelled at him.

"You are  _going,_ Thomas! I lost him already. I can't fucking lose you too. You heard him, this is your last fucking chance."

Thomas couldn't look at Minho. He knew that is he looked at his best friend, he would break down. The feelings that he was experiencing, the guilt of not realizing that Minho was hurting too, almost overpowered him.

His head moved slightly, catching sight of the hazy sunlight spilling in through the window, just like he had seen earlier in his bed. The dust particles were here too, floating aimlessly through the air and over Rafael's desk. Everything in this room was dark, even the walls. It was easy to see the dust - to see exactly the way that he viewed himself. Lost and useless. 

He felt his head nod.

He was going to go with Minho to look for a ghost. 

 

 

 

 

**MANY MONTHS BEFORE PRESENT DAY**

(TIME SET DURING THE SCORCH TRIALS)

 

Inside Janson's Facility

-

 

 

Thomas knew the moment things changed between him and Newt. He knew exactly the moment that sent his whole world upside down, confusion setting in everywhere. They hadn’t shared that night under the stars yet. They were sleeping in the bunks that Janson had given them, in the room that locked like a jail cell. 

Thomas was tossing and turning, unable to sleep. He was always unable to sleep. Everyone else around him, though, seemed to be knocked out. They snored as if they had been given sedatives. As he turned onto his other side once more, though, he heard a loud sigh from above him.

“You alright there, Thomas?”

Thomas sighed himself, stopping his motions. He craned his head to look up at the metal bars holding up his best friend above him, currently laying on the top bunk.

“Sorry.”

Newt didn’t seem to want to drop it there. He never did.

“Are you alright?”

Thomas didn’t answer. He could lie to everyone else easily, so easily that it scared him. Newt, though? He could never, not even if he tried. Things were different with him. Newt seemed to take his silence as a no, and Thomas heard some shuffling at the top bunk before he saw a pair of bright purple socks on the bunk bed ladder. His best friend, clad in an oversized black shirt and grey sweatpants, came slowly into view. The oversized shirt looked absurd on his skinnier frame, making Thomas crack the smallest smile despite his restlessness.

“What’s that for?” Newt teased him, playfully and roughly pushing Thomas more towards the wall so he could sit in his bed. His hands left Thomas’s arm as he sat upright, back against the headboard, shoving his feet into the blanket for warmth. It was freezing in here. The blondes hair was everywhere, pushed in every which way. His dark eyes were lazy, as if he hadn’t slept for days. He looked down at Thomas, though, with the utmost attention.

He always did.

The closeness of the boys under the blanket was new to Thomas. He hadn’t gotten this close to _anyone_ since before the Maze, he was sure of it. Newt’s thighs were right next to Thomas’s face, his arm pressed against Newt’s leg. The heat of someone and the closeness seemed to cloud his brain, making things a bit foggy. Thomas glanced up at Newt, no coherent thought forming in his brain. Newt stared down at him, looking slightly worried but had on a small and reassuring smile. His light eyes scanned Thomas’s face carefully. As soon as their gazes locked though, Newt seemed to sense the panic rising in him. He always read him like an open book, even though no one else could. Newt’s eyes became gentle, searching Thomas’s as if he could read his thoughts if he tried hard enough.

“Thomas?”

Thomas shook his head and felt his hands begin to shake at his sides. He turned onto his side to face Newt, feeling helpless. He didn’t want to look at Newt’s face. He didn't want him to see him break down. He didn’t want anyone to worry about him. He hated when Newt worried about him.

The fuzziness in Thomas’s brain was back. Whenever he became too stressed, his brain seemed to shut off instead of work into overdrive. The confusing feelings that he was suddenly having seemed to throw him into a panic, his breathing loud in his ears and his heartbeat thumping wildly right along with it. His vision was blurry, his head was aching, and he could only see the outline of Newt’s leg in darkness in front of him. It was as if the sun was hiding behind the clouds, shielding itself from everyone's view. Newt was the sun, but all of Thomas’s awful thoughts were the dark clouds. He looked up at the outline Newt above him, feeling lost and confused. Why was he so stressed out out of nowhere? Nothing had happened, they had just been sitting there.

Thomas felt a soft, gentle touch on his cheek. It was so gentle that he thought he had been imagining it. Another gentle touch followed the previous one. As if the dark clouds were parting in his mind, Newt’s face came into view as clear as day. The sudden shift in his ability to see almost scared him, his eyes zeroing in on what was touching his cheek. The soft, gentle touch was Newt’s fingers brushing against his lower cheek. The simple action had taken all of Thomas’s bad thoughts from his head and threw them out of the window entirely. They cleared the dark clouds, they cleared the haze.

Newt seemed to take Thomas’s sudden attention on his fingers the wrong way, because he snatched them away from his face quickly. The loss of contact made him feel lost and incomplete. Judging by Newt’s face, tinged pink, he can tell that he was embarrassed.

“Sorry, mate,” Newt said as he faked a laugh. His eyes looked sad as he spoke, his tone of voice uneasy. He was looking down at his sweatpant cladded thighs now, seemingly unable to meet his gaze. “I'm shit at comforting people. Sorry about that.”

Thomas turned his head away from the boys face, looking down, until his forehead became buried on the side of Newt’s outer thigh. The soft, grey material of the sweatpants and the warmth radiating from his leg calmed Thomas immensely. Newt also always smelled of something clean and so specifically _Newt_ , his mind focusing on that as he took deep and even breaths.

He reached out and grabbed ahold of material at the boys knee. Thomas felt lost and helpless, like a small child. He took a deep, rattling breath in order to try and clear his mind. There was silence for a moment, until there was a hand in his hair. Thomas marveled in the way that Newt’s hand moved through his hair, gentle and reassuring, and how he gently pulled at his hair as if he knew just how to calm him. The feeling was absolutely glorious. The shakiness in Thomas’s hands and the war raging in his head seemed to slowly cease as the blonde kept up his motions. Newt gently pulled at the hair at the back of Thomas’s head, causing him to bury his face deeper into the side of boys thigh.

"Something's not right," Thomas muttered into the fabric of Newt's sweatpants. "I don't trust Janson."

"We can worry about that later," Newt said back, voice quiet and gentle. He continued to run his fingers slowly through Thomas's hair. "Right now, you need to rest. You never sleep."

"What if this is our last night? What if Janson does something tomorrow, what if-"

"Thomas," Newt whispered. "Stop. Stop thinking for just a moment. Even our fearless leader needs his rest. _Especially_ our fearless leader."

Thomas's grip on the fabric at Newt's knees tightened. Newt was right, of course, despite the teasing. He was always right.  

“Newt,” Thomas whispered, burying deeper into the fabric on his thigh. “I’m scared.”

Newt didn’t respond for a moment, as if he was debating on what to say. His motions in his hair had stopped for a moment, making Thomas feel uneasy.

Thomas knew that the admittance was shocking. He had always kept himself together for everyone, he had never shown fear and tried his best not to show weakness. He knew that Newt hadn’t been expecting that he would ever say that. 

As soon as Newt started the motions again, though, he became content once more. Why had he even been worried in the first place? How could he ever be worried with Newt there?

Newt’s soft, warm fingers had moved to Thomas’s face once more. He lightly stroked the side of his face, the feeling of safety that it resulted in settled deep into Thomas’s bones. 

“You have every right to be scared,” Newt murmered above him. Thomas’s eyes drifted shut at the feeling, unable to help himself. Even Newt’s voice put him at ease. “You have so many reasons to be. You do. But remember that you’re not alone. I won’t let you be.”

Thomas nodded, slowly and hesitantly. He believed him. Newt had never left his side. 

“Despite all the bloody nutter things you put us through. You’re never alone. I’ll always be by your side. We all will.”

Thomas stayed silent a moment, unable to seem to form any words in his mind. He knew this to be true, had known it for a while, but the words seem to carry a whole new meaning to them in this moment. Why did everything feel so different? 

“Thank you,” Thomas whispered into the dark room, unknowing what else to say. They weren’t silent in the dark, although it was comforting. Newt’s motions never ceased. Thomas had never felt so safe and protected. He was always on edge, always anxious. In this moment he seemed to forget everything about the Hell that awaited them outside of this facility, and what suspicion he had about this place.

They remained like this for a few moments, the edge Thomas’s mind entering the beginning stages of sleep, when Thomas realized that someone was shaking, and it wasn’t him.

“Are you cold?” Thomas asked, emitting a jump from the other boy. Newt’s muscular thigh hit Thomas’s face, making the boy groan and roll away from him.

“Shit, Thomas. Sorry, I thought you fell asleep.” Newt’s hand had disappeared from his head from the motion of Thomas retreating from the attack. Thomas wanted it back.

“Are you cold?” Thomas mumbled into his hand as he dramatically massaged his forehead from the slight pain.

“A bit. I’m fine.” His voice indicated that he was playing it down several notches, and was indeed freezing. It _was_ very cold in here, the walls almost feeling as if they were trapped in a refrigerator. 

“Why don’t you get your blanket?” Thomas asked, moving a bit towards the wall to make room for the boy when he returned. He was exhausted now, sleep tugging at his mind. If he had been fully awake, he wouldn’t have had the guts to ask such a thing. He blamed it on the sleep, blamed it on the way that Newt had been caressing him.

Newt didn’t take it the way he meant it. Thomas watched his expression turn to embarrassment again, nodding slowly. He began moving out of Thomas’s bed, ears tinged a bright pink, not looking back. He threw his legs over the edge and stood so that all Thomas could see was the boys waist and legs.

“Sorry, I’ll let you sleep.”

Thomas groaned, sliding across the bed slowly reaching out and grabbing hold of the other boy’s t-shirt. Thomas slipped his head to the edge to glare up at Newt. Newt looked slightly breathless suddenly, looking down at Thomas. 

Thomas didn’t realize how much that wrecked Newt, seeing the boys head at that level, right near his waist. He had no idea how confused that made Newt either.

”Grab your blanket and come back down here,” Thomas demanded, before letting go of the soft material of his shirt. He slid back against the wall, making room once more for the boy when he returned.

He watched Newt reach up and quickly grabbing the edge of the blanket from the top bunk, yanking it free and pulling it towards him. He held it at his waist for a moment, hesitating. 

Thomas grew impatient, sleep tugging at his mind insistently. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs and making a dramatic sound. Newt clambered back onto the bed, cheeks pink. He crawled into bed once more, under Thomas’s blanket, but sat upright just like before. His back was pressed against the back headboard once more.

“You plan on falling asleep like that?” Thomas groaned, wanting to fall asleep already. At least, that’s what he halfway wanted. He wanted to bathe in Newt’s warmth once more. He looked up in time to see Newt flush brighter. 

“I ugh - yeah. Ok, sorry.”

Newt slowly slid down, finally laying down next to Thomas. He threw his blanket over the two, so that they had double the warmth. Thomas took in a deep breath once more, feeling that peculiar feeling of safety wash over once more. 

Both boys lay on their backs, staring up at the metal bars holding up the top bunk over their heads. Thomas began drifting asleep, unable to help it. He stretched out slightly, his arms extending and his fingers stretching out like a cats. When his arms relaxed, he felt his fingers brush against Newt’s. He didn’t move them, exhaustion seeming to take over completely. 

He felt a shift in Newt’s hand, and one of his fingers was now resting between his own.

Thomas awoke to a voice in the dark. He hadn’t even realized that he had fallen asleep. He barely opened his eyes, unable to see in the dark anyway. The voice worried him. He was their leader though, after all, so a hushed voice left him on edge.

”Newt?” The voice said through the darkness in a hushed voice.

Newt, next to him, hummed a response to Minho’s quiet voice in the dark. 

Thomas realized just then that he was staring at Newt’s shoulder. He had turned onto his side and huddled into the side of Newt’s body. He had all of his limbs to himself, as he was huddled into a ball, but his forehead was pressed firmly against Newt’s shoulder. The only part of him that was invading Newt’s space besides his forehead was his ankle, that was thrown over Newt’s. 

The warmth of the boy and that soft and sweet smell to him, left Thomas feel as if he was halfway in a dream. He couldn’t explain how amazing body contact was in this awful hell of a world. It was something that he never knew he needed. It was the only thing that seemed to ease his mind, and he was constantly trapped in a mind overflowing and overpowered with anxiety.

”Is he awake?”

”No, he’s been out.” He felt Newt’s voice rumble through the blondes body, felt it against his forehead. 

“You haven’t slept?”

”Been half asleep. Everything ok?” 

“Yeah,” Minho said, voice a bit distracted.

Thomas seemed to realize that Minho didn’t seem to be fazed at all that Newt was in Thomas’s bed. That surprised him, suddenly realizing how this may look. After all, if he saw Minho laying down with Frypan, he would find it a bit odd. If he saw Newt laying with Minho-

Something clawed inside of his chest at that thought. He pushed it quickly away.  

“What’s wrong?”

“Just...bad feelings. I’m not sure. Is that stupid to tell Thomas? That I have a bad feeling about this place?”

Thomas quickly closed his eyes as he heard Minho’s voice getting closer, as if he had squatted next to the bed. Sure enough, he heard Minho’s signature knee cracks.

”Not at all,” Newt said quietly. Thomas felt Newt shake his head against his forehead. “He is...” There was a pause. “You should tell him. He would like to know.”

The fact that Minho didn’t tell him about his slight break down last night made Thomas’s heart swell. It made the trust that he always had in Newt swell in size. The moment last night became personal...intimate. His heart tripled in size in his chest, his throat closing around itself.

”You’re right,” Minho muttered in the darkness. “You always are. Sorry I kept you up.”

Thomas heard the infamous knee cracks again, signaling that Minho had stood. There was a moment of silence before Minho spoke again.

”I’m glad that you and _Thomas_ are sleeping well.”

His name had a slight emphasis on it - that Thomas chose to ignore. He heard a smack in the darkness, assuming that Minho was struck.

”Goodnight, mate.”

The air around them was suddenly empty, the sound of Minho clambering into bed across from them was quickly swallowed into the darkness. 

There were a few moments of silence, a few heartbeats. Thomas decided, in his hazy with sleep mind, to bury his face deeper into Newt’s shoulder. He inhaled his scent as he wrapped his arm around Newt’s bicep, settling it between Newt’s ribs and his arm. He felt warmth and security wash over him, settle into him like a blanket.

He felt Newt move his head in the darkness, heard the slight ruffle of the pillow. He felt eyes on him as he drifted off to sleep once more. 

When he awoke once more, the first thing that he realized what that he felt the most rested that he had... _ever_. He felt as if he got multiple hours of sleep, much longer than he had ever slept before. The second thing he noticed, was that Newt was changing in front of him.

The harsh light from the insanely bright overhead lights were blazing, illuminating almost all of the boys that were standing up and talking all around the room. Many were changing, many stripping down completely in the open. Newt was one of them.

Thomas was still laying on his side, the same position he had been while he held onto Newt during the night. His back was towards the wall, and he was facing the boy that was standing directly in front of him, standing next to the bunk. Thomas couldn’t see his face, just his chest to his knees.

Newt was still in the oversized shirt, but his sweatpants were off. He was in black tight fitting boxers, his legs skinny but much more muscular than Thomas had thought. The sight left Thomas utterly breathless. The color of the boys skin was beautiful, and he looked soft and warm. The oversized t-shirt hung below his hips, covering everything important, as he watched Newt bend down to shimmy up a dark pair of jeans. 

As Newt pulled them all the way up, Thomas caught sight of Newt’s hips and the bare skin above the boxers. He had no idea why he was transfixed at the sight of the boy button up his jeans. He reached down slightly to grab a belt that was laying on Thomas’s bed that he hadn’t noticed before. Newt’s head still didn’t come into view as he did so, and Thomas watched all the while as he pulled his belt across his hips, through the belt loops, and buckled it. 

Thomas had absolutely no idea why he was transfixed on the sight - no idea why under the blankets, his body was reacting the way it was to seeing Newt do the simple actions. He had no idea why his whole entire being seemed to alight into flames.

Suddenly, feeling eyes on him, Thomas looked past Newt and saw Frypan. He was sitting on the lower bunk across from them, eyes watching Thomas. 

Thomas turned over on his other side to face the wall, embarssed from being caught. He ignored how hard he was in his sweatpants, determined to never think of this again.

 

 

 

 

  **THE BURNING OF WCKD/NEWT'S "DEATH"**

5 MONTHS BEFORE PRESENT TIME

-

 

 

Thomas was bleeding all over Newt. The wound that Janson had given him was bleeding purfusely, soaking the boy under him. Ava Paige’s blood was dripping from Thomas’s face as well, mixing in with his own.

He looked over Newt, looking for signs of life. His hand fumbled at his wrist, relief settling over him as felt the distinct, _but still there,_ feeling of his heartbeat. The running, the dragging his best friend all the way over here was successful. He hadn’t killed him. Thomas felt his body slouch forwards, suddenly taking in the cold of the night and all of the sorrowful thoughts in his head. The battle wasn’t over, Newt still wasn’t safe, but this was good enough for now. Just for now. It had to be.

Thomas studied Newt’s face, lacking color. His blonde hair was scattered all over his face, blood and ash smeared across his cheeks and jaw. Thomas wanted to reach out and clean him. He wanted to shake him awake. Thomas wanted to do _something._ Newt’s eyelashes were long, his face so relaxed that he looked years younger that he actually was. Although his face was skinner, from hunger or age, he looked so innocent and peaceful. The sight of blood smeared across his face made Thomas enraged.

Brenda suddenly appeared at their side, too close for Thomas’s comfort. He turned to look at the girl standing next to him, her short dark hair looking just as bad as Newt’s. Just as bad as Thomas’s probably did. She was holding a rope. Her skinny, starving body looked too small in her clothes. She looked terrified of Thomas as she stood there, even though Thomas didn’t even notice. All that was in his mind was Newt. He had to make sure that he would survive. Without him, without him in his life, there was just darkness. When he thought of his future, there was nothing.

“We need to tie him up, Thomas. Just in case-” She had leaned down, as if ready to tie him up herself. Thomas snatched the rope from her small, dirty hands. She stumbled backwards at the sudden, aggressive movement. Minho quickly stepped between her and Thomas, but there was no need. Thomas started to unfold the rope himself, following orders, ready to tie up his best friend. For the sake of his safety, preparing for the worst.

He couldn’t help but become transfixed at staring at the boy underneath him as he tied him up. He saw the barely there movement of his chest with every breath he took. His mind still couldn’t put together a complete sentence. He still couldn’t stop shaking, still feeling insane and panicky. Seeing Newt under him, seeing him and knowing that their battle wasn’t over, scared him. He wanted to hold onto the boy and never let go. He wanted to take all of his pain away and make sure that he never felt lonely or hurt again in his life.

Ava Paige’s blood dripped from Thomas’s face, landing on Newt’s jawline. Thomas’s eyes zeroed in on the drop, thoughts scattered. It slowly dropped down and onto the boys filthy jacket.

_It’s different with me. You know it is._

Although Thomas was in shambles and honestly just a mess, Newt’s voice rang through his head. The random memory, the random timing of his voice startled him, his fingers on the rope freezing as if the voice had stopped everything.

Thomas couldn’t help but agree, but not in the context at which Newt had spoken those words in. Not even close.

Thomas couldn’t think about that, though. He couldn’t. Especially not now. He had repressed those thoughts and feelings for the longest time, and he couldn’t start thinking about all of that now. Those thoughts were confusing and made no sense to him whatsoever.

Thomas hadn’t realized that his face had began to lower, his forehead gently meeting the blonde’s. He closed his eyes, taking in the scent of smoke and what he only assumed was the scent of blood. Probably from his own face, but also probably from Newt’s. Being skin to skin, even though the boy was unconscious, left him able to calm his breathing and think a bit clearer. The fingers on the rope near Newt’s wrist moved slightly to grab onto the fabric of the boys jacket.

He felt like a small child as he lay over Newt, clinging onto him and breathing deeply. He felt defenseless and weak. With their foreheads rested together, Thomas couldn’t help but think of the past few months. He had remained whole for so long, been able to get through anything, but only because Newt was by his side. Right now, in this moment, he had broken inside. He had snapped. He felt so out of control that he was scared of himself. He couldn’t lose him. He couldn’t _lose him._ There wasn’t anything without him. How had he been so stupid to not fully realize this earlier?

Thomas felt guilty touching Newt, even if the act itself was so innocent and made him more calm. He felt as if he didn’t deserve him in the slightest.

Behind him, Minho and Brenda were unable to take their eyes off of the boys. Both seemed unable to wrap their minds around the change in Thomas.

Thomas had never been broken before. Thomas was always the plans guy, not the lost one. The thought of their leader snapping made them worried, made them feel lost themselves.

They waited under the night sky, the burning of the WCKD building making the air warm and heavy around them. Ash settled in the space around their feet, in their hair and on their clothes. The berg was on it’s way. They were going to the Safe Haven. They were going to save Newt.

Thomas had no idea that he would meet Rafael. Thomas had no idea that Rafael would refuse to let any of them go to the Safe Haven if they brought Newt along. He had no idea that he would have to be forced to chose to either leave Newt behind, leave him on this WCKD roof next to burning buildings, or save everyone else in their group. 

Thomas didn’t know that he was going to put a gun to Rafael’s temple, threatening him, to only be pulled away from the dying boy that he loved.

He would be pulled away from Newt’s body, leaving him to burn along with the buildings around him.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been so busy lately, I'm so sorry for the huge delay.  
> I hope everyone is having a great week!
> 
>  
> 
> All my love,  
> amy xxx


	3. beans & forgetfulness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story follows the sequence of three parts to every chapter:
> 
> Present day  
> -  
> A good memory of the two  
> -  
> A bad memory of the two
> 
> ***there will be time jumps!

**Present Day**

5:13 AM

-

 

 

Thomas didn’t have much to pack. He had set clean clothes out, a few small essentials, and not much else. The only thing of true importance was the necklace that hung loosely around his neck.

It was early, about 5 in the morning. The sun was still hiding slightly, although darkness was still finding its way inside of the cabin. Everyone else was asleep in the cabin, besides the three that were going on the mission with him. Minho was packing silently across from him, and Gally and Frypan next to him. The bed that Newt was supposed to be occupying next to him remained empty, someone sleeping soundly on the other bed beside it. 

Gally and Frypan had offered to go as well, which surprised him. They really thought that they would find Newt out there? They thought that he may be alive? 

They were stupider than Thomas thought.

They had all seen how he was left on the building, dying and alone. They had all let it happen.

It was a colder morning, the birds not even up yet. They hadn't awoke Thomas this morning, although their alarm wasn't needed. He hadn't slept at all last night.

Thomas’s breath came out in small puffs of what looked like smoke. Minho didn’t look at him as he packed, and Thomas knew that he would have to apologize eventually. The other boys didn’t catch his attention either, but silently spoke to each other in hushed voices. They both sounded a bit excited, to finally get out of the Safe Haven to explore or to look for their old friend, Thomas wasn't sure. 

Thomas threw all of his extra clothes, his toothbrush, and a few other essentials into the backpack that he had on his bed. He put the filled water bottle on the side holder, and clipped his sleeping bag to the front. His fingers ached from the cold zippers, quickly shutting them to avoid more contact than he needed. His bones seemed to ache for the cold as well, his body hating the temperature. As he finished packing, he heard Minho leave the cabin. He took a deep breath before he decided to follow after him, deciding that the apology would have to be now or never. Frypan and Gally smiled hesitantly at him before looking away quickly. 

They were unsure of the new Thomas - how different of a person he was now. 

Everyone was.

Thomas caught sight of the muscular boy as soon as he stepped out into the cold night air. He was standing next to the log that Thomas had been in the middle of cutting before he went crazy on a younger boy. Minho was staring down at it, black hair pushed up as if he was running his hands through it in stress.

"Hey, Minho," Thomas called out, walking over towards his best friend. Minho turned, although his expression was guarded. His eyes didn't seem to hold the same care for Thomas that he had for so many months - didn't hold the same trust. It hurt Thomas. He hadn't even taken the time to realize that he was slowly losing Minho, just as Minho was losing him.

Thomas decided to play along with their little game. He decided to fake his excitement to find Newt, decided to fake that he changed his mind into thinking he had a chance.

"I'm sorry. For everything." Thomas saw Minho's shoulders slightly soften slightly, the guarded and stiff posture fading a bit. His breath was still visible from the cold, his bones still aching from it alongside something else that he couldn't explain. "I haven't been fair to you. You're my best friend, but I haven't been acting like it. I've been so cruel to you. I hope you can forgive me. I promise to try more - to make us,  _us_ again."

Minho seemed to have been wanting to hear those words for months. Thomas made a point to ignore the softening in Minho's brown eyes, the sudden redness that took over them. Minho nodded, a curt and strong nod. His posture completely softened, as if a huge weight was lifted from his strong shoulders. 

"Of course I forgive you, Thomas. You're my best friend too. I need you."

"Let's go find Newt," Thomas said, the name on his tongue heavy and unfamiliar. Minho's face lightly dropped in shock. The redness in his eyes became more prominent. 

Minho grabbed Thomas and pulled him into a tight hug. Thomas was thankful that he was a great actor. It would help mend his and Minho's friendship.

As if they even had a chance on finding a dead person. 

"Let's go find him."

 

-

 

One apology was enough for right now. He made a point in apologizing to Frypan and Gally later. Right now, he was thankful enough to be back on good terms with Minho. He was already acting back to normal with Thomas, as if the past 5 months had never happened. 

Gally and Frypan were still shooting Thomas strange looks, hesitant and unsure. They didn't seem upset, just unsure at what they could and couldn't do around him. They were hesitant and cautious, and it pissed Thomas off. He kept his calm though, not wanting to get on anyone's bad side. He wasn't about to chastise them either, when it was his fault in the first place. 

They all threw supplies into the back of what looked like a big, green Jeep Wrangler - the build of it signifying that it was definitely made for four wheel drive. They had all of their backpacks stored inside, along with a few extra backpacks filled with water and food. They also strapped in a few gallons of gas, just in case they couldn't find any abandoned cars around the area. 

No one came to send them off. The birds were out now, singing and calling to one another in the lightly lit, hazy sky. They were their only company as Gally clambered into the front seat, and Minho in the passenger seat. Fry sat to Thomas's left in the back, although he still wouldn't fully look at him. 

They were all in many layers, knowing how freezing The Scorch became at night, taking over completely. They had decided to search the abandoned cabins a few miles from them, near the mountains on the other side of them. Between the mountains became especially cold, and they knew that they had to prepare for the worst.

"I'm glad WCKD is gone," Gally commented as he started up the Jeep, it roaring to life under them. The rest of the cars here resembled the Jeep, the four wheel drive essential to this area. Gally began driving forwards, Thomas gripping onto the seat under them. Gally was a fast driver. "The fact that we only have to watch out for the infected and not people anymore is amazing. We don't have to worry as much."

Frypan laughed, his black boot lightly tapping the multiple guns that sat on the floor between Thomas and himself. His skin seemed to glow in the early morning light. "Glad we still have these, though."

"All we need it Newt, now. He was the best shot anyway," Gally spoke in the front.

A hopeful feeling filled the car, a small smile on Frypan's face. Thomas could see the same smile on Minho's face through his side view mirror. They were all so hopeful - all so naive.

"He would have hit you for that comment," Thomas spoke up, deciding that he had to try and join the conversation to sound somewhat realistic in his acting. "He always thought that Fry was."

This made everyone laugh. The carefree, happy feeling that filled the car seemed to lift Thomas's spirit, although it was all fake. It was as if they were back in the old days, back when they were all still complete. Gally sent him a smile through the rear view mirror, his golden brown hair shining bright in the sunlight. His hazel eyes shone bright.

"You're right, he would have. You always knew him best."

The air of happiness in the car didn't change, but that didn't stop Thomas from feeling as if all of the air was shoved out of his lungs. His breathing stopped, his eyes on the place where Gally had caught his a moment before. 

"I have no idea how someone as damn clumsy as him was able to be the best shot. The boy couldn't even hold a jug of water without spilling it everywhere."

Thomas heard laughter as if it was coming from a distance. The haze in his mind was threatening to overpower him once again - threatening to take his mind far away from the moment that they were in right now.

"You're telling me! In the glade, every time he would enter the kitchen, we couldn't keep our eyes off of him!"

Thomas could practically feel the body heat of Newt next to him in this carefree moment - could practically hear his laughter fill the car.

He was always next to him.

No matter what.

 

-

 

It took them a whole day to get to the cabins - green land and trees surrounding them. Thomas was still in awe at the sight of all of this greenery, hidden away from the infected and away from WCKD. It was almost untouched, as if it had been left alone for years. The jeep effortlessly maneuvered through it all, Gally knowing exactly how to control it. 

As soon as they neared where they knew the cabins were, Gally finally stopped the car. All boys were already exhausted from sitting still all day, watching the world pass them by. They all clambered out to stretch their legs, darkness already creeping it's way into the dimming light of the sky.

"I'm thinking that we take the night, and go early in the morning," Gally suggested, stretching out his toned arms in front of him. He yawned, unashamed and not covering his mouth. Minho nodded next to him, stretching his legs out.

"That's good. One of us needs to keep watch, though. Even though we don't have to worry about WCKD, the infected may come around." Minho took his turn to yawn. "I know we have never seen them out here, but it's better that we play it safe."

"I'll take first watch," Thomas offered quickly, knowing that sleep would be hard to find him. The other boys seemed to be intensely grateful, smiles all around and Fry even clapping him on the back.

They all began to lazily take out their sleeping bags and all of their snacks, laughing and joking around. The feeling in the air was still joyful and playful, as if it was just a night out with the boys. Thomas tried his best to join in on the laughter and jokes, although the smile on his face felt strange and foreign. They all seemed to know it, but the grateful looks on their faces each time they caught his gaze felt reassuring and comfortable. 

That night, after Thomas helped build a small fire and as the other boys huddled into their sleeping bags, Thomas climbed slowly onto the roof of the Jeep. 

He sat there on the roof, staring down at his friends. There was someone missing, it was obvious. There was a gap to the left side of Thomas's sleeping bag on the floor. Frypan had left it there, unintentionally or not, Thomas didn't know. They all still believed that it would soon be occupied by the one person that belonged in it.

Thomas sat there, wrapped in a blanket and his hoodie pulled up and tight around his chin. The breeze flowed gently around him, sliding into the blanket and seeping into his boots. A gun lay on the roof next to him, looking out of place in the quiet moment, beautiful nature surrounding them. He stared at it for a moment, as if the object was foreign to him.

As if he hadn't used one to shoot Ava Paige in the forehead. 

Thomas quickly pushed the memory from his mind, looking away from the crude object. 

Thomas didn't wake Minho for the next watch - sitting there immersed in his memories until the morning light began to creep over the mountains. 

How long could he stand this life without Newt by his side?

 

 

 

 

 

**4 MONTHS BEFORE THE BURNING OF WCKD/NEWT'S "DEATH"**

12:34 PM

TIME SET IN THE MONTHS SPENT IN THE SCORCH,

TAKEN PLACE BETWEEN THE SCORCH TRIALS & THE DEATH CURE

-

 

"Bloody hell, Tommy. How bad can you be?"

Frypan and Newt were laughing at Thomas as he attempted to cook, beans in a pot over the fire. They all were squatting next to him as he struggled, almost spilling all of the beans into the fire as they watched. He huffed in frustration, raking a hand through his messy hair. He steadied the pot on the metal surface that sat above the fire, watching it carefully.

"Hey, I'm trying! This isn't my specialty!"

It wasn't. The sun was beating down as well, causing Thomas to almost soak through his shirt with sweat. He  _hated_ the heat. He was getting so tired of this damn heat in The Scorch. They needed to find Minho quickly, and get on their way to wherever the Safe Haven was. 

"Damn right. You never even got a job at the Glade," Frypan chastised, eyes locked on his precious beans. He was sweating almost as much as Thomas, but didn't seem to mind at all.  

"They're beans, Tommy. How can you mess that up?" Newt said, laughing next to him. His forehead was shining with sweat, his hair sticking to it and sticking out everywhere. A proper mess. Thomas ignored him, staring at the pot as intensely as Fry.

The laughing, the joking around, was foreign. So many days were tense and full of stress. The necessity of finding Minho and the intent of defeating WCKD always weighed heavy on their shoulders. It was rare to hear laughter around here, although quite welcome.

"You're not one to talk, you walking disaster," Frypan spoke up, finally glancing up from the beans. He narrowed his dark eyes at Newt accusingly, who held up his hands in defense. "You weren't even allowed in the kitchen."

"Aha! See? And you're judging me!" Thomas exclaimed, turning to look at Newt. At the motion, his knee hit the pot's handle, and the beans went flying.

_"Fuck!"_

 

 

-

 

"Okay, just sit still," Thomas instructed, Newt sitting underneath him on a rock.

Newt's hair had grown quite a bit, almost on the verge of meeting his ears. He had been complaining about it for about two weeks before Thomas had had enough. He demanded that Newt let him give him a haircut, which he finally agreed to...after a few days of convincing. 

They sat in the shade of a huge tree in the blazing Scorch, trying to find any refuge that they could. The rest of their travel buddies were laying around in the shade as well - as they had just finished another intense conversation about their rescue mission. Only Jorge and Vincent were sitting off near the truck now, hunched over a map and talking in hushes voices. 

The tension in the air was suffocating - the stress of their mission always looming around. Thomas welcomed the distraction of Newt’s hair. 

Brenda was watching the two boys with amusement, obviously wanting Thomas to mess up.

"I don't know why I'm stupid enough to agree to this," Newt muttered, looking up at Thomas with squinted eyes. "Not after what just happened to those poor, defenseless beans." His hair and eyes seemed to shine so bright in the sunlight - so bright that Thomas swore that he was the sun himself. As those dark eyes watched him with suspicion, Thomas felt warmth flood through his body at the gaze. He tried to calm himself, trying not overthink things.

The night under the stars happened about two weeks ago. Thomas was  _sure_ that it had been a dream. There were no other explanations for it. He was hallucinating off of exhaustion - he had done it before. Nothing new there. There was no way that he and his best friend had kissed. As he looked down at Newt, and Newt looked up at him, he knew there was absolutely no way. Newt hadn't brought it up, hadn't made any hint that it had been real. If Newt was acting completely normal, it should have been a clear indication that it hadn't happened. So why was Thomas unable to get it out of his mind?

"Well, you did. And there is no going back," Thomas snapped playfully, chopping the scissors wildly in the air before stepping closer to Newt. Newt groaned, his head falling forwards. Since Thomas had taken a step closer, his blonde head fell onto Thomas's stomach. Thomas knew he was being playful, something he would do to Minho or Fry, but the motion caught him off guard. He heard Brenda laugh behind him, and he decided that that was the more normal response, and he forced a laugh as well - face flushed. He tried to ignore the heat from Newt's head, his soft hair brushing against his forearm. 

Newt straightened up, looking back up at Thomas with a sloppy grin that made his heart begin to work into overdrive.

"Fine. Do your worst."

Thomas reached out and gently grabbed Newt's chin, forcing it down slightly so that the blonde was now staring at Thomas's chest instead. Thomas began, grabbing small locks of Newt's hair at a time. He cut at an angle, so that Newt wasn't left with ugly chopped straight hair. As he slowly continued his work, he began to hear Brenda hum behind him. He heard Fry's light snoring, and Newt's breathing beneath him. The day was quite peaceful, despite the blazing sun and the fact that they were in The Scorch, hiding from WCKD. It was a serene moment, besides the constant thought of finding Minho that was always weighing on his mind. 

He felt a hand on his knee, almost causing him to jump from the sudden motion. He had almost chopped an ear off. Newt snaked a hand around his jeans, his hand resting on the back of Thomas's knee and holding him in place. The touch sent a million pins and needles through his body, despite having the thick fabric of the jeans between them. Newt seemed to have done it unintentionally, as if he hadn't even registered doing so. A quick peek at his face proved this, Newt's eyes closed as Thomas played with his hair. 

Thomas continued his cutting, Newt's hair actually coming out pretty decent. He had shortened it drastically, but still enough to let Newt run a hand through it, which he loved doing. As Thomas began cutting near Newt's small ears, he felt his laugh.

"The sound is quite bloody terrifying," Newt admitted, laughing once more. He pulled his head away for a moment, his hand tightening on Thomas's knee. "It's proper scary, knowing your clumsy hands may cut my ear off."

"He’s doing a great job," Brenda stated behind them, almost causing Thomas tocut his ear off from the sudden sound of her voice. He had almost forgotten that she was even there. "It looks great. Maybe you were a barber before all of this."

Thomas rolled his eyes at the teasing. 

"You'd still look _just as handsome_ with half an ear. Don't even worry," Thomas teased back, earning a laugh from both Newt and Brenda. “I’ll even let you have it after.”

Newt looked up at Thomas as he grabbed onto the blonde's face, moving him gently forward once more. Thomas tried to ignore Newt's intense gaze on his face, ducking his head to work around Newt's ear once more. He realized a few moments in that his hand hadn't left from Newt's skin, still cupping his cheek gently to get the right angle for the blondes ear.

Newt's face was soft - almost too soft. His skin was warm, body heat and the heat from the air around them seeming to scorch Thomas's skin. Newt still was looking up at his face, making Thomas's hand shake slightly. He worked on Newt's hair more slowly this time, his hands continuing to shake and Newt continuing to stare up at him. Thomas finally was done with one ear, and had to let go of his hold on the blondes face. He had Newt tilt his head the other way, and had to step to the side to get the other ear. Newt's hand dropped from his knee, and Thomas felt lonely at the loss of contact.

Newt wasn't able to stare at him from this angle, and Thomas finished this side rather quickly because of this. 

"It looks like shit," Brenda teased behind them. Thomas took a step back and examined his work, not missing the nervous expression on Newt's face.

"You're kidding," Newt said, as if he was only half believing what she had said. He glanced over at Thomas, brown eyes wide. Thomas smiled down at him, nodding his head.

"She's kidding."

 

 

 

**A WEEK BEFORE THE BURNING OF WCKD/NEWT'S "DEATH"**

2:13 AM

6 months before present day

-

 

 

It was the night that Vince had spoken to him and he was still agitated. It was the night that they had tried to take over the train to find Minho, when they found about a hundred kids. They had just shut down all of the lights in their refuge from the hint on the radio, and everything was pitch black. He was planning on leaving the next night to save Minho. Thomas was going to try and do this mission on his own - save Minho on his own. 

"The Last City," Jorge had said. "The last place you want to go. The lion's den."

Vince was right. He wasn't going to put all of those lives on the line for just one man. But to Thomas, Minho wasn't just one man. It was an awful idea to risk everyone's life. So, he was just going to risk his. He wanted to relax one more night before he went on his journey. He needed his strength up, and he hadn't slept the night before.

He was also staying because...well, all because of Newt. Newt had told him two days ago about the flare inside of him. Thomas wanted to spend one more night with him. He wanted to be with him, he truly did, but he was a coward. He wanted to save everyone, he  _needed_ to save everyone, but he didn't. He had failed. He hadn't saved Newt. 

Everyone was huddled up, the hundred of children that they had saved. They all were using random objects as pillows; sweaters, backpacks, each other. It was a huge pile of people, and Thomas was ready to go on his own. He wouldn't risk all of them. Staring at them made him feel guilty that he had even suggested that they all go and try to save Minho.

Thomas was laying on his back, his backpack a temporary pillow underneath his head. It was pretty cold here, despite all of the warm bodies around him, so his boots were still on as well as his coat. He was unable to sleep, although he knew he needed to. He saw Brenda propped up on her own pillow across the small circle of people that he was in. She was fast asleep. Fry lay on his side next to her, his jacket under his head. He was fast asleep as well. 

Newt was laying down next to him, on his right side as always. He was using his own pillow, all thanks to Thomas who had gone to search for one for him. He was wide awake, Thomas was surprised to see. Newt was curled up, knees to his chest, facing Thomas. He wasn't looking at him though, staring off into nothing as if he was deep in thought. He looked slightly worried, eyebrows furrowed and his mouth slightly shaking. Their heads were about level, and Thomas could see the look in his eyes clearly. He looked...lost. It scared Thomas. 

"Hey," Thomas muttered, shifting closer to Newt. Newt's eyes flickered upwards to lock onto Thomas's gaze. The look that he had before remained the same, despite the reassuring look Thomas was trying to send him. A coldness swept through him, and it had nothing to do with the cold wind around them. It sunk deep into his bones and made his mouth run dry. Newt's eyes bore into his, but looked as if he wasn't looking at him at all. Thomas felt as if he was a million miles away from his best friend. 

"Newt?"

Newt nodded, almost to himself. His eyes still seemed clouded over with something that Thomas couldn't quite place. Thomas shifted closer, feeling more uneasy as each moment passed.

"Newt, are you okay?"

Newt shook his head, almost too soft of a motion for Thomas to catch. The coldness that was already gripping at Thomas seemed to lock into place. His breath hitched in his throat, his whole body seeming to freeze up.

"What's wrong?"

"I know you're my friend," Newt whispered, just loud enough for Thomas to hear him. His eyes were wide and helpless looking. "I know you're my friend, and I know you mean the world to me. But I just can't..." Newt trailed off, his eyes still staring deep into Thomas's.

His heart grew heavy. They couldn't talk about this now, couldn't talk about _them_ right now. This wasn't the time or place. Not after what Newt had told him - not after learning about The Flare inside of him. Not after he had given up. Before Thomas could intervene, Newt continued.

"I can't remember your name."

Emptiness filled Thomas. It felt as if someone had opened him up and poured ice cold water inside of him. He was left speechless - left so hurt and shocked that he couldn't even seem to move. He felt as if he didn't belong in this moment, as if this moment was fake. He felt as if he needed to pinch himself to wake up from this nightmare. 

"I couldn't remember mine until you said it just now," Newt continued, whispering so that no one could hear him besides Thomas. "I can't remember why I'm here...what's wrong with me?"

Newt pulled up his infected arm, pushing down the sleeve of his big coat and staring at the blue and purple veins. They looked as if they were spiderwebs, littering his forearm and taking over the skin completely. Newt broke eye contact with Thomas, staring at it for a few moments and not saying a word. 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im sorry for the long wait! My best friend was in the hospital the past few days, and I’ve been pretty distracted. 
> 
> I have every chapter of this story planned out already, but it’s been fighting me tooth and nail. I’ve been experiencing such awful writers block. 
> 
> I hope everyone had an amazing week. Happy almost Christmas! I will probably post after Christmas, so I’m advance I hope everyone has a lovely one. Let me know if you have any plans! I would love to hear about them. 
> 
> All my love,  
> amy x
> 
>  
> 
> -  
> this story is based on a tweet by @themazepunner


	4. losing control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas goes a bit haywire and teaches Newt something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story follows the sequence of three parts to every chapter:
> 
> Present day  
> -  
> A good memory of the two  
> -  
> A bad memory of the two
> 
> ***there will be time jumps!

 

  
**PRESENT DAY**

6:17 AM

 

Minho was annoyed that Thomas hadn't woken him for his night watch. Thomas watched him yank his body upwards as soon as he woke up, looking throughly confused from the sunlight around him. With eyes squinted due to the sun, he glanced up at Thomas and frowned at him. Thomas just shrugged his shoulders, not saying a word. Minho sighed, looking at the other two boys sleeping on the ground around him. Minho reached down to clumsily pull on his boots before stepping over them cautiously. He approached Thomas, hair on end from sleeping in the same position all night. He truly slept like a log. He looked as if he had spiked it up with gel in the back.

"I'm forcing you to nap when we get back from the raid," Minho warned as he leaned against the truck. He looked up at Thomas, making sure his scolding wasn't going unheard. Thomas nodded, faking a smile. He leaned down and reached out a hand to fix Minho's crazy hair. He couldn't help but notice that it wasn't half as soft as Newt's was.

Newt's hair  _was._

_Past tense._

A lump in his throat, Thomas pulled away. The sick feeling, as if his whole entire body was crawling with something awful, never seemed to want to go away. He knew he would never get over this - never get over Newt's death. 

Minho began trying to flatten his hair more, despite the help from his friend.

"I'm going to go take a shit," Minho declared, walking to the back of the truck to grab the backpack with the toilet paper. Thomas rolled his eyes, sighing loudly. "If I'm not back in 5, can you wake these lazy asses up?"

"Sure thing," Thomas said, waving a hand after his retreating friend. He watched Minho only walk about ten feet in before he playfully pretended to squat in place, legs stretched out dramatically. Thomas reached down to slip his boot off, before tossing it directly at Minho. It hit his friend's muscular back as he stood, unexpecting an attack. He grabbed the shoe and tossed it back to Thomas, before laughing and running deeper into the woods. 

Thomas kept his word, and waited 5 more minutes until he woke Gally and Fry up. He climbed down the Jeep, carefully holding the gun as he did so. He tossed it into the front seat as soon as his feet found purchase on the green grass. He walked over to the sleeping boys and the dead fire - ash in its place. 

He nudged Frypan awake first, his boot gently poking into the boys soft stomach. Frypan groaned and turned onto his other side, so his back faced Thomas. "Two more minutes."

"Boss's orders," Thomas teased, playfully jabbing him in the butt next. Fry sighed and slowly sat up, his skin glowing in the morning sun. He rubbed at his eyes with his knuckles, glancing up at Thomas in annoyance. Thomas threw him a forced smile and walked to poke Gally next. Gally, who had apparently woken from the interaction with Fry, was already sitting up and rubbing at his own eyes. His golden brown hair was still shorter than his and Minho's, just like Frypan's, so their hair wasn't capable of sticking up like Minho's had in the back.

"Minho's boss? Who said I wasn't?" Gally muttered. He was obviously joking, despite his crankiness from waking up so early. 

"Nope! I'm boss!"

Minho's voice made all three boys jump. He had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. He was rummaging through his backpack behind Thomas, presumably searching for an outfit for the day. As Thomas's heart slowed from the scare, he turned and walked back towards his own backpack to find clothes to change into as well.

"What if I wanted to be boss?" Frypan asked from somewhere behind him. Thomas pulled his backpack towards him before opening the zippers and rummaging through his own bag. He heard the boys begin to talk behind him, but kept his back towards them. He slipped off his old shirt and reached for a new, dark green one. 

Him staying up all night hadn't been the best idea. He had began to overthink, and hadn't stopped. The absurd journey that they were on was definitely going to take a toll on him. There was no way that they would find a ghost, and he knew it. They weren't paranormal investigators, they were just stupid and gullible boys.

Thomas quickly changed the rest of his clothes and put on fresh socks before pulling on his old, beat up boots once more. The rest of the boys had already finished changing, and were packing up their supplies. They all looked happy - hopeful even. They all joked and laughed under the morning sun - all smiles. Thomas followed suit in packing the supplies, but still tuned out their talking and banter. 

He wished for alone time. He didn't want to pretend to be excited to find Newt anymore. 

After loading the Jeep back up and climbing inside, they slowly made their way towards the cabins. They were only about a mile away, or even less, so it took little to no time getting there. As they came into view, Thomas noted that there were only about 4. The Safe Haven had about 20 times that. They all looked relatively small, and definitely abandoned. He took a small glance at the rest of the boys, whose faces didn't look much hopeful anymore. Abandoned cabins are not necessarily what they had been hoping for. They all tried to keep a hopeful attitude though, Thomas noted, because the smiles were still there. Despite them being a bit dimmer than they were earlier.

Minho had been driving this time, and he parked the Jeep right outside of the first cabin. It was relatively small, about the same size as a family only cabin back at the Safe Haven. They all climbed out, each grabbing a gun, and began walking towards the closest one.

It had a small flag pasted on the outside of the door, one that Thomas didn't recognize. It was run down, vines growing up the sides of it like decorations. Thomas gripped his gun in one hand, and reached at the handle of the front door. It opened easily, another bad sign that indicated that they were truly abandoned. As soon as he swung the door open, though, the smell of food hit his nose. 

He couldn't quite place the smell, something that was very dirty in scent, but it was definitely food. Minho made a noise behind him at the stench. A good noise or a bad one, he wasn't sure. Thomas cocked his gun before raising it slightly, pushing the door open wider with his foot.

The scent began to clear out from the now open door, but it definitely lingered. Thomas scanned the room as he stepped in, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. There was a small bed, and not much else. There was a dirty old, circular rug on the floor, and a broken cabinet near a little window. There, on the cabinet, were bowls.

Thomas began walking towards the bowls as the other boys filed in silently behind him. There were five of them, all coated in something black. That was the smell. That was the food.

"Five bowls," Minho said behind him, sounding as if he couldn't believe it. "The night watch man, who heard Newt's name, said that there were about four or five of them."

"Newt," Frypan whispered behind Thomas. His voice was hopeful and stunned.

Thomas kept his gun pointed at the bowls. The edges were chipped, the bowls themselves looked as if they were made of clay. The black substance coating the bottom of the bowls were hard to place. Why hadn't they finished it?

"Even if it wasn't the same group," Gally said, his voice sounding unsteady. "Someone has been here very recently. That stench was  _something."_

Of course it wasn't Newt. It was a group of people that came to eat here. The number five was a coincidence, and a coincidence only. It didn't stop Thomas's chest from seizing up, though, or his lungs refusing to hold any air. He slowly lowered his gun, eyes unable to move from those damn little bowls. 

"Let's just go look at the rest," Thomas muttered, turning to push past the rest of the boys.

The rest of the cabins had nothing of importance. There weren't even beds inside of the rest of them. One of the rooms had very old, dried blood that had spilled all over the side of the wall and the window - almost as if they had climbed through it. It was shattered completely, coating the floor in glass. Although it was worrisome, they weren't here to scope out an incident that had happened many months before. The food was fresh in the first cabin - the bowls a tell tale sign that someone had been there very recently. That was all that mattered in this moment.

Although they were assuming that the people who had stopped here to eat had gone on their way, the boys decided to hang out for the rest of the day. They were lazy and unproductive, joking around and talking about things that have been happening in The Safe Haven. Gally insisted that they stayed the night, just to make sure that they didn't miss anyone that may come back in search for their bowls. 

As promised, Thomas took his nap as soon as they all began to relax. Feeling overwhelmed by everything that had happened today, Thomas slept throughout most of the day. He spread out his sleeping back on the soft, grassy floor next to the Jeep. It took him a while to find sleep, but when he finally did, it was filled with nightmares as usual. When he finally rose, the sun had gone down, and there was a small fire lit dimly in front of him. 

The rest of the boys had spread out their sleeping bags next to Thomas, forming a circle around the fire. Thomas stayed on his side, listening to his friends talk around him. They were all snacking on the food that they had brought along. Almost as if they were expecting him to wake up soon, there was a small bowl of beans placed next to his head. It was the first thing he had seen as he opened his eyes, and was immediately grateful for it. These days, he had been forgetting to eat. It was just a side effect to how much he didn't care about his life lately. 

"Good morning sleeping beauty," Fry teased, although the sun was completely gone. "I'm assuming you are taking night watch again?"

Thomas groaned, stretching out his limbs. He hated sleeping at night, and was thankful for the ability to take the night shift, but it didn't mean that he couldn't complain. He pushed himself up on his forearm, not fully rising all the way in order to eat his bowl of beans.

"Yeah, of course."

He grabbed the little bowl, pulling it towards him. As he began to eat, Gally got up from his sleeping bag with a groan. He grabbed something off of the floor next to him, and got up to place Thomas's water bottle in front of him. He was shocked by his friends willingness to be so helpful, knowing that he didn't deserve it in the slightest. Gally had obviously gone out of his way to go and grab the bottle from his bag, completely out of his way and very thoughtful. He thanked Gally, who returned it with a small smile, his golden eyes crinkling at the edges. The light emitting from the fire lit up his face. 

"We decided to go search the abandoned houses on the outskirts of the city tomorrow. If there is any evidence of anyone there, we can search more inside of the city and see if there are any houses with any decent living conditions. Sound good?" Minho asked him, eyes finding Thomas's across the fire. His eyes, despite their natural darker color, were hopeful. His hair was absurdly messy again, almost as if he had done it on purpose. 

"That sounds good," Thomas said, feigning hope to match Minho's. He was rewarded with Minho's famous bright, radiant smile.

He ate another spoonful of beans, relishing in the taste. He hadn't realized how hungry he had been, his stomach growling from the emptiness inside. The beans were soft and flavorful, obviously courtesy of Fry. No one else could cook anything compared to that kid.

"We were talking about the first things we would talk to Newt about when we finally find him," Frypan spoke up through his own mouthful of beans. He was leaning against one of the Jeeps huge tires, looking thoroughly exhausted as well as happy. His big red coat was completely swallowing up the rest of his body - shielding him from the cold that swept through the mountains around them. "I was thinking that I would tell him all about the kids, and how happy they were to see newcomers. Especially the smaller ones. I feel like he would be great with kids. Especially the orphans there."

Thomas's heart seized up on that one. It knocked all the breath from his lungs and left his head swimming and dizzy. Fry was right. Newt would be amazing with the kids. He was so patient and loving - how could he not be? He would make all of them feel special and loved in their own unique, personal way. 

He traced the plaid patters on his sleeping bag, dropping his head down to avoid eye contact with the rest of them. 

What would he talk to him about first?

"I would say sorry..." Minho said, his voice piercing through the quiet that had resulted from Fry's statement. "I would say sorry for leaving him on that roof."

The quiet suspended in the air once more. Thomas's tracing had ceased, his finger freezing in place on the pattern that he was currently occupying himself with.

He hadn't spoken to Minho about this yet. After his initial anger, he knew that Minho had made the only choice that he knew. Minho saw his transformation - had seen that he was dying. He had done what he thought he had to do.

"That wasn't your fault, man. Rafael would never have allowed us to bring him." Gally's voice pierced through Thomas's sudden haze, snapping him out of it, and his tracing of the patterns started up again. "He would have understood. It was a hard decision on all of us."

Thomas didn't look up to see the reactions of the other boys.

"Rafael never treated you right, Thomas. We're free, thanks to you." Thomas looked up then, meeting Minho's gaze. He was laying on his side on his checkered sleeping bag, head held up by his arm. He was near Thomas's feet, and he had to look down slightly. "You were right in the cabin when you beat up that kid. You never asked to be leader. That was way too much weight on your shoulders. You were pressured to make the right decisions, you were  _expected_ to make the right decisions."

"We were kids," Gally chimed in, sipping on his own water bottle. "We were kids, and you didn't deserve that. They have told me a lot, about everything that you had done before I found you."

"You were the best leader," Frypan cut in, joining in on the praise. "We were lucky to have you. I'm sorry that it was too much."

Thomas didn't say anything - the weight on his chest almost too much. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. It was something that he didn't know that he had to hear...but it was exactly what he had needed.

They had been kids. They were  _still_ kids. 

"You all didn't deserve this either. You all were so great out there. I'm lucky to have you all," Thomas said, eyes still closed. 

"We're family now," Gally muttered, voice low and heavy. "You know, despite you trying to kill me."

Thomas's eyes opened them, and everyone began laughing. The mood shifted a bit, the weight ebbing away.

"I would show him the beach," Minho chimed in, returning to their previous topic. "I think he would love swimming. Even though Fry is completely awful at it."

Everyone laughed once more, Thomas actually letting out a genuine one. Fry, no matter how much he practiced, almost drowned every time he even got _near_ the water.

"You and Newt," Gally said, turning his attention back towards Thomas. "Weren't you two together?"

There was a heartbeat of silence. 

There was a crushing sensation on his chest. 

There was a heartbreak that would never quite heal.

 _"Gally,"_ Frypan whispered, his voice sounding surprised and disappointed. He turned to look at Gally, but Thomas's eyes couldn't focus on his facial expression.

Thomas's eyes shifted from Gally, who looked surprised to have been scolded. 

"No," Thomas said, his voice sharp and final.

He turned on his back, facing away from the group. 

The silence didn't break. All four boys sat there, soaking in it. The whole atmosphere was something that seemed suffocating - almost as if the moment was completely ruined. As if the night was completely ruined. Everything was ruined.  

The shadow of the fire danced on the side of the Jeep in front of Thomas's face. After a few moments of watching it, his heartbeat ringing in his ears, Thomas stood up. He walked away from the boys and around the Jeep, grabbing a roll of toilet paper, and walked into the forest around them.

He took his time using the restroom, trying to compose himself mentally as he did so.

Had he been that obvious?

He felt as if his feelings for Newt were hidden, as he had tried to hide them from himself as well.  

When he returned to the campsite, he didn't meet anyone's gaze. He grabbed a gun from the backseat and climbed back on top of the roof of the Jeep. Still consumed with silence, the boys gradually fell asleep on the floor next to him. Even though they were asleep, Thomas didn't dare look at them for too long, just in case someone happened to wake up. He wasn’t up for a conversation. 

Although he was on night watch, he tried to keep his mind as blank as possible. He focused on his breathing - focused on trying to feel the cold air whipping in the breeze around him. He felt as if he couldn't breathe, despite feeling so and knowing that he was. 

Breaking his breathing techniques, a snap of a twig had him whipping his head to the left side, coming from the side of the Jeep. The noise was soft, but was much out of place. It was a good distance away from him, too far away to be a threat yet, but the noise rose the hairs on the back of his neck. 

Why had that noise been so out of place?

It was almost as if it wasn't an animal.

Thomas cocked his gun and raised it in the area that he had heard the noise, dread filling him. The woods were dark and terrifying to look at, the creature obviously just out of sight. He tried to catch a glimpse, his eyes straining against the darkness. There was no movement for a few moments, everything quiet and peaceful once more. 

Then, it happened again. Slightly closer this time.

Between the trees, a flash of a blonde color was slightly visible for just a moment, before it was gone as quickly as it had come. It had been human level, tall in the trees. Whatever it was was moving farther away - Thomas heard another snap of a twig much farther in the distance. 

Thomas could have sworn it was a blonde head of hair.

No, that was impossible. It had to have just been a deer, coming to investigate the fire that was no doubt visible through the dense trees. A very tall deer. The only other option was one of the infected, but it would have been quickly ready to attack. Not retreat.

The coldness in the air seeped deep into Thomas's bones. He felt too aware of his body, his breathing almost rattling his bones. His stupid instinct was drawing him towards the noise - drawing him towards whatever he had seen. He followed his instinct.

He slowly and silently creeped off of the car. As soon as he found purchase on the soft ground, he immediately scanned the boys sleeping soundly. Each had a gun near their sleeping bags. Thomas glanced at the abandoned cabin in the distance. It had to have been walking in that direction. He had heard the last twig snap closer to that area. 

It couldn't hurt to take a quick look, could it? The boys all had their guns right next to them, and whatever it was seemed harmless enough... although it sent shivers up Thomas's spine.  

It wouldn't hurt to sneak away just for a moment.

Thomas grabbed a flashlight out of the car before silently walking towards the cabin. He didn't turn the flashlight on just yet, keeping his eyes scanning the forest on his left side. His eyes were still straining against the darkness, but he didn't dare turn on the flashlight from risk of being seen. 

He reached the cabin after a slow and careful trek...and realized something had left his heart sinking to his stomach.

The door was propped open.

Thomas had seen Gally pull it shut behind him before they searched the rest of the cabins. He was almost certain that no one had gone back to the cabin. They would have announced it, they would have said  _something._

Thomas finally turned on his flashlight, gun raised in the other hand, and walked over to the door. He kicked open the door, ready to be faced with a multitude of possibilities. After a quick scan, though, he realized that no one was there. As he swept his flashlight over the whole room, he realized something that terrified him.

The bowls were gone.

 

 

 

 

**3 MONTHS BEFORE THE BURNING OF WCKD/NEWT'S "DEATH"**

2:56 PM

TIME SET IN THE MONTHS SPENT IN THE SCORCH,

TAKEN PLACE BETWEEN THE SCORCH TRIALS & THE DEATH CURE

 

 

Newt sat in the drivers seat, looking slightly terrified. His brown eyes were wide, but also looking surprisingly excited as well as scared. His hands were wringing together on his lap, eyes on the steering wheel in front of him.

"It's not fair that you already know how to drive," Newt muttered, not looking up at Thomas. His blonde hair glowed brightly in the sun, almost as if it was a halo perched on his head. Thomas chose to ignore the sight of the boy, pushing the unwanted feelings deep inside of himself. He laughed at the boys annoyance, leaning away from the blazing sun of The Scorch that was trickling in through the roof of the Jeep.

"Maybe you do know, but you're just scared."

"So what if I'm scared?" Newt asked, groaning in frustration. He placed his forehead on the steering wheel, but accidentally clipped the horn. He jerked his head back, the loud noise blaring in response. Thomas laughed, and Newt groaned again next to his side. 

"See?! I can't even handle not messing up the bloody fucking horn!"

"Is your foot on the brake?" Thomas asked, leaning over the center console and taking a look. Newt had one dirty boot on the break, and the other one hovering over the gas. He scoffed, looking over at the boy. Before he could say a word, he realized how close they were. Newt's cheek was less than a foot away from Thomas's face. It looked soft and warm, as if the months in The Scorch had no effect on the boys skin. It practically glowed in the sunlight, a soft color in contrast to Thomas's own slightly darker skin. He could even smell the slight hint of vanilla that seemed to follow the boy everywhere. 

Thomas shook the feeling of warmth that crept over his entire body at the close proximity of the boy. He took a deep breath before continuing onto his lesson. He pushed down every thought and every wish that he had in this moment.

"I know it's scary, but only one foot okay? You can't use both."

"But it would be so much easier that way!"

"Trust me, it won't be. Take your foot off!" Thomas laughed, smacking the boys arm. Newt grumbled a few words before doing what he was told, and took his foot off of the gas. "Okay, now go ahead and keep your foot pressed down on the brake. Put the car in drive."

Newt took a deep breath before doing so, his whole chest rising and falling dramatically. Thomas rolled his eyes as Newt put the car in drive. He reached out and grabbed the steering wheel, hands shaking slightly. Thomas watched his long, lean hands - veins prominent. They trailed up his silky skin, stretching up towards his forearms. The grey shirt that he was wearing was a great touch to it, matching perfectly with his skin tone. Thomas had always appreciated Newt's arms.

His eyes trailed back up to Newt's face. The fear still etched upon his face made Thomas laugh.

"You're going to do great. You don't even have to press on the gas at first. Just slowly take your foot off the brake."

Newt did. A bit too slowly, and the car didn't move at all for a moment. Thomas laughed again, rewarding him another scowl from the blonde. 

"What are you scared of most?" Thomas asked, deciding that it wasn't going too well from the approach that he was trying. Newt took a deep breath, hands gripping the steering wheel firmly. His knuckles were turning a pasty white. The car was slowly moving forwards, at the slowest crawl that Thomas had ever witnessed.

"I'm scared of crashing into the trees," Newt said, his eyes on the edge of the tree line that was...

At  _least_ three minutes of driving away from them. 

Thomas held in his laugh, biting on his lips. Newt didn't notice. His eyes were still locked onto the trees as the car slowly kept rolling - so slowly that it felt like it wasn't truly moving at all.

"Newt," Thomas said, wracking his brain for the best solution. "If you don't slam on the gas, you will be completely fine. There is no reason to believe that you will hit the trees. We are very far away."

"What if I turn into them?" Newt's ears were tinged with pink now, obviously embarrassed. "This steering wheel seems very unreliable, you know. Very loose."  
  
Thomas reached his left hand out and placed it over Newt's, which was still gripping the steering wheel tightly. He did it without thinking, almost as if it was a reflex. Newt slammed his foot on the brake, both boys lurching forwards. Thomas's head jerked forward, almost hitting the dashboard. Newt apologized purfusely, his face blossoming with color. Thomas laughed, although his head sure did hurt from the sudden motion.  
  
"I'm suing you if I get whiplash," Thomas muttered, hand still over Newt's on the wheel. Newt laughed, although it was a bit too loud. Thomas glanced over at him, blonde hair looking crazy as it stood up all over his head. His hand running through it from anxiety had definitely done some damage.  
  
“I would let you,” Newt nodded, looking into the distance at the trees. His eyes were narrowed at them, as if he was challenging them.  
  
”Okay, so push your foot gently down,” Thomas said, looking down at Newt’s foot on the gas pedal. “Do it very very gently.”  
  
Newt did. Thomas watched his big boot press lightly down - the Jeep slowly rolling forward in response once more. Newt surprisingly seemed even more stressed out now than he did a few moments ago.

The hand under Thomas’s was shaking.

Newt’s hand was warm and soft, despite the rough terrain around them. Despite the world in chaos.

Why was his hand so damn soft?

“Okay, press a little harder,” Thomas muttered, glancing up at the sight in front of them. Newt followed directions silently. Thomas leaned forward more, almost leaning into Newt. He was just trying to look down at his feet, but with his arm up, his arm was now pressing against Newt’s. The warmth of his body and that vanilla scent made his thoughts turn to mush.

”See?” Thomas asked, looking back at Newt’s face. “You’re doing great. Keep going.”

Newt nodded, eyes locked ahead of him. He breathed in deeply before letting it out slowly. The car was steadily moving along now, reaching about 5 miles an hour. 

Thomas hesitantly took his hand off of Newt’s. Although he wished to keep it there forever, his hand had started sweating from the heat surrounding them. Thomas stared at his hand for a few moments - examined the long and strong fingers - when he heard Newt take a sharp intake of breath. He glanced up and saw the tree line coming closer. Newt eased up on the gas. 

“You’re doing g-” Thomas had turned back to compliment him, but slammed his head into something hard and blonde. Thomas yelped, and the car once more slammed to a halt. Thomas flew forward, his head once again hitting Newt’s. Their foreheads had bashed together both times.

Newt had apparently leaned forward for a better look outside of the window, and Thomas had been too close as well. They had smacked their foreheads together in response to Thomas turning his head quickly. 

Newt yelled out painfully, quickly putting the car in park. He unfastened his belt quickly with fumbling fingers as Thomas backed away from him, retreating to his own seat.

”I never want to drive again,” Newt declared, rushing out of the car, ears pinker than his cheeks.

 

-

 

That night, Newt went to get two servings of dinner, and handed Thomas his before he could even get up. He said it was only fair, since he was helping him drive.

Newt, every night after that, brought Thomas his dinner. 

 

 

 

 

 

**5 MONTHS BEFORE PRESENT TIME**

TAKEN PLACE DURING THE DEATH CURE

A week before the burning of WCKD.

 

Thomas lurched his body forward, but he was too late. A big man grabbed the front of Thomas's shirt, yanking him towards him. The mask of the person covered their face completely, a vest on over a grey t-shirt. Thomas saw Newt being dragged into a separate car, a man grabbing ahold of him just as the one in front of him was doing. 

Newt's eyes locked with Thomas's over the tussle between them, the man dragging him quickly to an open van. Thomas saw the fear in Newt's eyes - saw his name on his lips. 

Fear unlike Thomas had ever felt arose inside of him, leaving him gasping for air. It was utter terror, and it made his blood run cold. 

"Wait -  _Newt!"_ The man yanked Thomas towards the back of the closest car, throwing him inside as if he weighed absolutely nothing. Thomas lost Newt's gaze, Newt being thrown into a separate van. He heard Jorge yelling for Brenda somewhere in the distance, and felt a body slam into his. He fell onto the floor of the van with a thud, Brenda falling painfully on top of him. He quickly pushed her off, lunging for the open door, when a man with a mask and a gun jumped into the van and slammed the door behind him.

Before Thomas could react, there was a lurching motion and the van shot forward, tires squealing. He braced his hands on the floor of the van in order to not be thrown forward with the quick motion. His head was spinning, and he felt frozen from shock. He felt as if he couldn’t move a muscle. 

Brenda quickly slammed her back on the van wall opposite of the man, eyes locked on the huge gun in his hands. Thomas, on the other hand, was still frozen with fear. His whole body felt as if he had been swimming in ice water, his breathing weak and his body shaking in fear. He didn't care about the man with the gun, though, not at all.

_Where had they taken Newt?_

The mask on the man left his entire face concealed, his gun lazily slung across his lap. He was either inexperienced, or didn't want to hurt them. It didn't matter to Thomas, though. Nothing would matter until he found Newt.

His body slowly seemed to unfreeze, his mind telling him to  _move_. He needed to move.

Rage unlike Thomas had ever felt took hold of him. He was never usually a physically violent person, but he felt himself snap. He felt his fucking _brain_ snap with the knowledge that he was ripped away from Newt. Without thinking, he launched himself at the man. 

He was not going to allow his other best friend to be taken. He already lost one.

There was a strangled yell, and Thomas yanked the gun out of his hands. He slid it backwards to Brenda before he grabbed ahold on the shirt on the man, yanking him towards him. 

 _"Where are they?!"_ Thomas demanded, panic obvious in his voice as he got up close and personal with the masked man. He heard a sputtering of words come out of him, almost as if he was too shocked to speak. Thomas shook him violently until he slammed the man back against the wall. The man's mask almost slipped off from how rough the motion was, his head slamming into the doors behind him.

"Thomas!  _Get off of him!"_ Thomas felt Brenda grab onto his shoulders, trying to shake him out of the trance of anger that he was in. “They have the advantage, they have so  many more-” Thomas cut her off by shrugging her off violently - Brenda gasping from the rough motions. She retreated quickly, scrambling away from Thomas’s pure rage. 

"Get off!" The man cried out, the mask muffling his speech. His eyes were visible, though, and they were wide and scared. "We aren't doing anything to your friends-"

"Almost there!" A voice called out from the drivers seat. The van picked up speed at the sounds of what was happening in the back of the truck - moving so fast that Thomas had to plant his feet firmly on the ground to keep his balance. He turned around, glancing around wildly for the gun. Brenda, brown eyes wide and scared, held it in her grasp. It was a huge, intimidating shotgun. Just what he needed. He made a move towards Brenda, but she lifted it quickly and pointed it at his chest. Her face was scared, but determined. 

Blind rage filled him. It seeped through every fiber of his being, and he couldn't control himself anymore. He launched himself at the man once more, his hands wrapping firmly around his throat. The man began fighting back, but to no avail. Thomas held onto his neck, too determined to be swayed by a few shoves and scrambling hands.

_"Where is he?!"_

"We are-" The man was cut off, Thomas's grip tightening. His hands were filthy and strong around his neck. They grabbed onto the neck in front of him as if squeezing it hard enough would cause Newt to appear.

Thomas was losing his damn mind.

"Thomas, you're scaring me!  _Stop!"_ Brenda's pleading met deaf ears.

The van screeched to a halt. As soon as it did, Thomas dropped one hand from the mans throat to search wildly for the handle on the door behind him. He heard the driver began quickly barking orders at someone outside, telling them that they needed to open the back doors of his truck. He sounded terrified.

Thomas found purchase of the door handle, and yanked it open. Dim light met his eyes for a brief moment before he slammed the door open with his foot, and then shoved the man out of the van itself. He landed ontop of him as the man fell on his back, his vision hazy with rage. Those terrified eyes still stared up at him, but he couldn't care less.

 _"Where is he?! I swear I'll kill you, I swear-"_ Thomas cut himself off when he threw a punch at the mans face, despite the mask covering it. Their head jerked backwards from the brute force. He heard a few people yelling out, a crowd rushing around them.  _"Where is he?"_

A familiar voice rang out among the chaos; " _Relax! Relax!"_

_”You told us that they wouldn’t be any trouble-!”_

Multiple hands grabbed at his arms and coat, attempting to yank him away from his victim. In order not to be dragged away, his hands wound around the throat beneath him once more, latching on as tightly as he could. The crowd stopped yanking quickly as they realized that when they tugged, Thomas only yanked the man upwards by his throat, a strangling noise emitting from him pathetically. 

_"I swear I’ll kill him if you don’t tell me where he is-"_

_"I'm right here!_  I'm right here, I'm right here! _"_ Newt's voice rang out, distant but recognizable, snapping Thomas out of his blind rage. He glanced up, hands still wrapped around the mans neck. Newt was rushing towards him, hands reaching out to Thomas as if he wanted to drag him away, but was too scared to try. His face looked panicked but also  _relieved._

"Thomas, _stop!_  I'm right here! Stop!"

Thomas let go of the man and backed off, his whole anger fit subsiding quickly. Newt's face, always the sun in a dark situation, was all that he could see. His beacon of hope. He watched Newt finally reach him, and saw him take a step closer - felt his hands on his upper arms. Newt pulled him away from the man quickly, eyes never leaving Thomas's.

"I'm right here."

Thomas, realizing what he had just done, was shocked. He had never lost control like that. He almost killed that man. He was terrified of what he had done - unable to wrap his head around why he had pushed it so far. 

 _"You said they wouldn't be a threat!"_ An unfamiliar voice roared, ringing out among the chaos. "You swore to us! _He almost killed him!"_

"Everybody relax! We're on the same side here!" The familiar voice was back, although he still wasn't able to put his finger on who it was. Thomas, at the words, whipped his head towards it. A tall, muscular boy stood there, mask covering his face. Newt was still gripping the tops of his arms in a vice-like grip, his anchor in this unsteady moment. 

"What do you mean same side? Who the hell are you?" Thomas demanded - adrenaline subsiding from the closeness of Newt, but he was nonetheless still furious. There was a silence that rang out among everyone, the chaos finally completely gone. Everyone stayed still in this moment, holding their breath.

The boy reached up to pull his mask up over his shaved blonde head. When he turned to face them once more, Thomas's stomach jumped to his throat.

"Hey Greenie."

The world stopped for a moment. He felt Newt still next to him, heard a quick intake of breath.

Thomas took a small, tentative step forward. Newt’s hands fell away. "Gally?"

"No," He heard Fry whisper somewhere behind him. Newt glanced back at Fry.

Thomas's rage once more made an appearance - as if before wasn't enough. After a moment's hesitation, he lunger forward once more, attacking another person. He punched Gally so hard across the jaw that his blonde head snapped backwards. Gally landed on his back on the dirty floor, Thomas landing on top of him. 

Guns cocked all around him, the mass of people closing in once more.

"Stop, stop. It's alright!" Gally called from under him. Despite him calling off his henchmen, Thomas raised his fist once more. He was shaking in anger, shaking from his raw emotions.

_Chuck._

Quick footsteps rang in the now quiet room, moving quickly towards them.

"Hey, woah woah woah. Stop, Tommy! Stop." Newt's hand reached out to grab his fist - which was ready to do some punching. Just the feeling of Newt there almost threw off his attention on the murderer trapped below him.

 _"He killed Chuck,"_ Thomas said, voice shaking but determined.

"Yeah, I know," Newt said, voice attempting to be comforting as much as it could in this tense moment. "I know. Yeah, I remember, I was there too, alright? And I also remember that he was stung, and half out of his mind." 

Newt's thumb gently began stroking the back of Thomas's hand as he kept his grip steady on Thomas's fist. The motion jolted Thomas from reality, his heartbeat beginning to pound away in his ears. The comforting motion was steadying him by the second. 

Newt glanced around at the crowd surrounding them, guns drawn and ready if Thomas made one more move. He turned his head to Thomas once more, leaning in closer. His face being so close drew Thomas even farther from reality, the heat from his anger subsiding slowly. His raised fist began to loosen. Newt's warm breath fanned across his face. 

"Just calm down, alright? Come on, Tommy. I'm here."

Thomas yanked himself away from Gally before he could change his mind. Thomas didn't see the look of relief flood Newt's face. Gally slowly stood before cocking his head to the side, rubbing his jaw. 

"Kinda had that coming. Anybody else? Fry? Newt?" Despite his snarky remark, he eyed the two boys in front of him with an expression that Thomas couldn't quite place. "Please don't threaten anymore men, Thomas. We are on the same side after. Newt is obviously fine. It’s time to calm down and talk."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***this is the last filler chapter. Everything is about to take a drastic turn! The next two chapters are my favorite. 
> 
> The support that you all have been leaving is absolutely amazing. I can’t even put into words how much it all means to me. I wish I could give a big hug to everyone. 
> 
> To my twitter friends, who hyped me up so much, thank you endlessly. 
> 
> I hope you all had an amazing Christmas! I hope everyone got exactly what they wanted and more! 
> 
> I’m wondering who truly reads my notes...if you do, take a guess at my age? Any ideas? 
> 
> Side note:  
> The huge stress on Thomas is finally making an appearance. Everything leading up to him attacking the man in the van was consuming him. I love talking about real life situations, real mental health, and how I know I would have lost my damn mind in that situation. I know he seemed a bit rash, but I couldn’t see a man who has been put through hell act any other way if his other best friend was taken. 
> 
> Your comments and support make me so driven, confident, and give me so much hope for my writing and this story. Your comments and love make me happier than Thomas when he was able to hold Newt’s hand driving!
> 
> All my love, every last bit of it to you all!!  
> Amy xxxxxx


	5. peaches & honey / nightmares & notes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my version:  
> Thomas does not meet Aris in Janson's facility.  
> They do not find Aris, Sonya, or Harriet yet.  
> All three are still unknown to them all.  
> They will meet them soon.

 

 

 **PRESENT DAY**  
10: 54 AM

 

The next morning, they set off for the city. Thomas was on edge, constantly glancing around as if the strange creature from last night would appear. His mind wouldn't stop racing. Even though the presence of his best friend and the outside air around him began to clear his mind, he felt himself closing off again. He felt as if he was losing his mind once more. Frypan quickly caught on that there was something very wrong. 

"Thomas, please sleep on the way over there. Okay?"

Thomas didn't respond. The boys cast each other worried looks behind Thomas's back as he climbed into the back seat. Minho took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. Frypan hopped into the drivers seat, walking around the Jeep. As soon as Gally situated himself in the back with Thomas, they began their journey away from the cabins and onto new possibilities. 

Thomas kept his eyes on the cabins as they drove away, eyes locked on the door that was still propped open.

He did sleep. 

He slept, but all he had were nightmares.

No matter how many nights that nightmares invaded his sleep, he knew that he would never get used to them. They were a virus inside of his mind. He always woke up feeling stressed out and lonely. He hated sleeping at this point. This useless mission kept making the nightmares worse - kept making them more vivid and realistic. He couldn't escape his thoughts even in sleep.

This dream was different.

Gally, Fry, and Minho were standing on both sides of him. They were facing a closed door, an old and wooden looking one. There was something behind that door, Thomas could feel it. He took a step forward - or at least he tried to. His legs felt as if they were moving through molasses, sluggish and uncooperative. The door swung open in front of them.

There he stood. The blonde that invaded his every thought.

Thomas tried to run to him, but to no avail. The boys’ around him said nothing, standing there as if they couldn't even see him in front of them. Newt, legs seeming to work perfectly, walked right up to him.

He was slightly hazy, a sheen to him which made him hard to see. He looked as if he was surrounded in fog - hiding from view. As he approached, every step he took towards Thomas, made his chest cave in on itself. It was as if his heart was breaking all over again.

"Come to find me?" Newt asked, voice clear despite his physical presence being the opposite. Thomas's knees became weak at the sound of his voice, the honey coated sound that he missed so dearly. He wanted the haze to part around the boy - he wanted to  _see him._ Why couldn't he see him? His heart ached. Thomas attempted to move closer to him once more - but his legs were still useless and betraying him.

"Where are you?" Thomas asked, his voice sounding distant and muffled. Newt smiled sadly. Although he couldn't see him clearly, Thomas knew the look by heart. The small tilt of his head. He had seen it a million times. 

The blonde reached out, and Thomas reached out as well to meet his touch. When their fingers should have met, Thomas found nothing but air. He watched his fingers pass right through Newt's, as if he were a ghost. His head snapped up to look at Newt, but the boy had begun to fade away. He was leaving as quickly as he had appeared. The haze around him was swallowing him whole. He could see right through Newt - could see the door behind him once more.

"No!" Thomas cried out. A sinking feeling overcame him. He desperately tried to reach out to the boy - tried to find purchase on _something. Anything._  "Please, don't leave me again. I don't want to... I can't do this without you. _Please_. I love you so much. _Don't leave me again."_

"I can’t remember who you are,” Newt whispered, head still tilted. “How could I ever love you back?” His voice was coated in sorrow before he disappeared entirely. 

Thomas jerked forward, gasping for air. His body had lurched forward as if he was attempting to run away. The old, dirty car seat in front of him was exactly where Newt had been a moment before. Tears sprang into his eyes, and he was unable to stop the gasps that tore through his throat. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe.

_"Come to find me?"_

At the sound of his voice ringing through his ears, Thomas gripped at his head, pulled at his hair. He needed to get out. He needed to be free of his mind. He needed to have everything just  _stop._

How could he live like this?

There was a hand on his arm, a comforting gesture. He heard voices around him, but they were muffled and sounded as if he was underwater. The grip on his arm tightened, and in response, his own hands on his hair slid down to cover his face. He was sobbing like a child, unable to help himself. Gasping wasn't helping. He felt as if he was drowning. Truly, truly drowning in his own toxic mind.

It comes and goes in waves, the pain. It was always there, always stirring under the surface, but always seemed to hit harder each time.

_"I can’t remember who you are. How could I ever love you back?"_

Thomas's tears slowly subsided, his gasping calming to a stop. The hand on his arm was still there. If he concentrated enough, he could almost pretend as if it was Newt next to him. Almost. 

He eventually calmed himself enough to slump against the door of the Jeep, pulling away from Gally's comforting hold on him. He closed his eyes and wished more than anything that he could stop all of his thoughts - stop everything. He wished more than anything that he could join Newt, wherever he was. 

After another full day of driving, they reached the outskirts of the city. No one brought up Thomas's panic attack. They sat in silence for a while, until they resumed light conversation. When they reached the city, late into the night, they parked on the outskirts of the forest. The city loomed in front of them, big an intimidating. It was abandoned, large buildings unoccupied and filthy. They were falling apart, hanging on each other for support. Trash was littered everywhere, even seeping its way towards the forest and wrapping around the trees. 

Minho and Fry tumbled out of the front seats, exhaustion obviously settled in. They stretched their legs and circled around the car to grab their bags and essentials from the back. As soon as Thomas's hand reached the cold handle, Gally spoke up.

"I have them too, sometimes," Gally said quietly. Thomas didn't turn to look at him, but stilled all the same. "I have them too."

Thomas nodded, not daring to look back. He opened the door and clambered out, ready for his night shift. Minho gave him a small smile as he rounded around his side of the Jeep. He held Thomas's pack in his hands. Thomas took it gratefully, giving him a small smile in return. Minho clapped a hand on his shoulder before turning to yell to Fry about how he calls dibs on not making the fire.

The cold, windy air was enough to make Thomas pull out his blanket from his pack. As he climbed onto the roof of the Jeep, he wrapped it around himself for warmth. The sky was dark - almost too dark. It loomed above them, stars shining brightly. The boys on the floor next to him laughed quietly and talked, the fire slowly starting. Thomas watched them for a little, watched them eat a few snacks and unroll their sleeping bags. Fry walked over and handed Thomas a bag of chips without a word. Thomas thanked him, accepted Fry's smile, and placed the bag onto his lap. 

Minho fell asleep with a chip in his mouth, and even Thomas couldn't help but crack a smile. 

While he was on watch, he tried not to think. 

Every time he thought of Newt, he dug his fingernails so roughly into his skin that he drew blood.

 

-

 

When the morning came, excitement filled the air. They all got ready quickly, eager to explore the city. Everyone except Thomas, of course.

The boys had planned out their scouting mission. The city was large, but only had a few buildings. There were about thirty homes on the outskirts, and there were two apartment buildings. It would take them a while to search each one. They were going to start on a few homes next to them, and then return to their search the next day. 

They drove closer to the homes before getting out and approaching the small neighborhood. The grass on the lawns were unkept, fences torn down. Trash piled up here, on the porches and on the street. Abandoned cars were everywhere, doors open as if they had been looted through.

They took their time going into each house. Thomas was amazed that the three boys didn't get discouraged when they reached the last house. They continued to laugh and joke about small things in each house. Creepy dolls, funny family pictures. They were making light of the fact that all of these people were obviously dead. Thomas knew it was just poking fun, and not actual glee that they were all dead, but it was hard for him to join in on the conversation. They kept glancing over at him warily from time to time, as if they expected him to burst into tears once more. 

They did the same thing for about four days. They went to houses, examined each one, and moved onto the next. On the fifth day, they reached the last house of the city. 

The last house resembled a shack. It was hidden behind a house, as if it was an extension of the first one. It was impossible to see from the street, and Fry had only noticed it as they were turning back to the Jeep. They shimmied through a small fence on the side of the front house, and walked through tall grass to approach it. Thomas lagged behind, his dirty boots treading carefully through the unkept ground. The house in front of them was a light beige color, although the paint was chipping and vines drew up the sides. 

When they approached the house, Minho decided to go through first. He drew his gun as he pushed the old green door open - the rest of them following in tow. As soon as they passed the threshold, the smell hit them. The same smell that was at the cabin. It was food, and it was fresh.

"It's that smell again," Gally said, his voice excited next to Thomas. "God, that stinks. What is it?"

"Some kind of beans, maybe," Fry said, his face shining in excitement and sweat from the scorching hot sun. He turned to look at Minho, who was walking into a side hallway. He pushed open the first door. He let out an excited yell, and the boys all rushed forward. As they entered the room, Thomas's heart dropped.

There were five mattresses spread around the floor, an even space apart from the rest. There were piles of clothes, boots, and snacks next to each mattress. Minho gestured to the bowls on the floor. The same ones from the cabin. 

Thomas began to breathe slowly, trying to calm his mind.

There was no way.

He  _had_ seen a person. The bowls were gone, and now they were here. They were  _here._

"Five beds," Fry announced, walking up to the closest one. He still sounded excited. "Jorge said that the watchman said there were five of them."

"You think it's him?" Gally asked, turning to look at Minho. Minho was smiling, grin taking over his whole face.

"Maybe."

Thomas slowly walked to the bed with the bowls. There was a piece of paper laying on the floor next to them. He crouched to pick it up, knees popping under him. As he squatted there, he placed his gun on the bed and opened the paper. 

 

_**wash clothes** _

_**clean boots** _

_**sew shirt** _

 

It was just a list of tasks, but the handwriting had Thomas's hand shaking. Seeing the handwriting made the world stop around him. 

He truly was going insane.

_It couldn't be._

Thomas was losing his mind. That was the only explanation. 

The necklace around his neck seemed to scorch his skin, demanding attention. 

 

-

 

He didn't tell anyone about the note. He had stuffed it into his pocket and didn't dare look at it again until the rest of the boys were asleep that night.

They were all excited and impatient for the following day. They had wanted to wait for the people to return to their house, but didn't want to scare them. It had been getting dark, and a few random boys waiting for you in your home would be a bit terrifying.  

Thomas was sitting on the top of the Jeep, darkness surrounding him, when he finally pulled out the note. He was sweating, despite the freezing cold of the night air around them. He unfolded the note and placed it over the blanket that was sprawled out over his lap. For the first time since he had read it, Thomas reached out to slowly pull off the necklace around his neck. With shaking hands, he pulled off the top of the black vial, and slowly pulled out the note.

He unfurled it so slowly that he felt as if time was turning backwards. There was a roaring in his ears, a pounding in his chest. For the first time since he first read it, Newt's note was now open, and was placed on his knee. 

_**My Tommy,** _

Thomas, examining both papers with tears flowing freely down his face, decided that it was his sleep deprivation that convinced him that it was the exact same handwriting on both papers. 

 

 

 

 

 

**1 MONTH BEFORE THE BATTLE OF WCKD/NEWT'S "DEATH"**

SET IN THE TIME IN THE SCORCH,

BETWEEN THE SCORCH TRIALS AND THE DEATH CURE

 

 

Thomas and Newt had struck  _gold._ They stumbled upon a small, abandoned cargo train. It was filled to the brim with supplies and food, two train cars attached to the conductors car. They had been walking along the tracks for a while, surveying the area that they had stopped to rest for the night. Jorge was against traveling so far, but Newt wanted to stretch his legs. Of course, Thomas went with him.

Newt was so excited that he had even shimmied a bit when he saw the supplies in the train, accompanied by one of his rare grins that took up his entire face. The sight had left Thomas absolutely breathless. 

"We have to take some of this alcohol to celebrate," Newt said, holding up a bottle that he had pulled from one of the crates. Thomas was busy rummaging through his own on the opposite end of the train car, but glanced up to see the hard liquor being held in the air for him to see. Newt's long, beautiful fingers held it up steadily. "It's been ages since I had some of Gally's brew. A night off of this rubbish stress seems fucking fantastic."

Thomas exhaled a laugh through his nose. "Take a few. I think they would enjoy it too."

"I want my own bottle," Newt teased, continuing to rummage through the crate in front of him. Thomas was currently running his fingers through a soft blanket that he had shimmied out of the crate. 

"I don't want to be thrown up on, so you're sleeping next to Minho. Deal?"

"No deal," Newt said, laughing and turning to glance over at Thomas. His blonde hair bounced on his head and those brown eyes that made Thomas's knees buckle seemed to shine brightly at him. "You can't get rid of me! Too bad." 

Thomas's mind, despite him trying to control it, seemed to turn to mush in his head. His knees shook as he ran his fingers over the soft material of the blanket, trying not to smile like an idiot. Newt caught sight of the blanket in his hand from his motions, and nodded in appreciation. "That looks amazing. Bring it."

"We can always come back tomorrow," Thomas said, although he set the blanket aside so that he can bring it back to camp with them. Newt turned his back on Thomas once more. "There is so much here. I can't wait for them to see."

"We get first pick, though," Newt said, finally standing up from his crouched position. He held two bottles in his hands, and began walking over to Thomas. Thomas pretended not to stare at his long legs as he approached.

"Look at that," Newt said in awe. He had glanced over Thomas's shoulder and had noticed the cans of peaches and the little plastic bear that held honey in it. "Check the expiration date, yeah?"

Thomas pretended to grumble in protest, but reached for the cans of peaches anyway. Newt bumped his hip into his playfully in response to his grumbles, and Thomas's cheeks flushed. As Thomas's fingers found purchase on the cold can, he turned it over. Then, he laughed.

"What?" Newt asked, surprised. Thomas shook his head, a grin still on his face. He turned to look at Newt, who held a confused, adorable expression.

"We don't even know what day it is. What use would it be to look for expiration dates?"

Newt frowned at him before turning to stalk out of the train, head held high although his ears were flushed pink in embarrassment.

"Just bring them, asshole."

On the way back, blanket tucked under his arm, Thomas opened a can of peaches. He had stuffed a few cans into his blanket and had stuffed a few, as well as a jar of honey, in Newt's hood. Newt had protested, although with a smile, and didn't remove them.

Thomas took a sniff of the peaches as they walked. They smelled alright to him. He held out the can for Newt to sniff as well.

"They smell alright," Newt said, face thoughtful. "I mean, I don't remember what they are supposed to smell like, obviously, but they don't smell bloody rotten."

Thomas couldn't help but glance at Newt a few moments longer than he should have. The boys hair was shining in the sunlight, making the signature halo around his head. His cheeks were pink from the sun, and brown eyes bright. He was wearing a dark grey shirt, which complimented his skin tone perfectly. His black jeans hid his long legs, his boots dirty and caked in mud as always. Those chocolate eyes caught his staring ones.

"Well, where's my peach?" Newt demanded teasingly, sending him a small smile. "My hands are full, you tosser." Those pink, full lips caught Thomas's attention. He thought about this "kiss" more than he would like to. He wished it had been real. He wished that night under the stars had been real. 

Breaking out of the trance of those chocolate eyes, Thomas smirked at him. "My hands are filthy, but as you wish."

Newt rolled his eyes playfully. Thomas wipes his hands on his jeans as best as he could, trying to keep them as clean as possible. Thomas grabbed a peach from the liquid as they walked. He tried not to think about the fact that he was going to  _feed_ him. But he did. Newt opened those pink lips and took the peach from Thomas's fingers. A small section of his soft lip brushed against Thomas's finger. He even  _groaned_ at the taste, smiling at Thomas and begging him to try one. 

Thomas had to walk funny all the way back to camp. 

 

-

 

That night, under the stars, they were all drunk. Everyone except Frypan, who was on watch. Looking mighty grumpy at that fact, if Thomas did say so himself.

Newt was so tipsy that he was hogging one of the bear shaped honey containers, tilting his head back and squeezing the contents straight into his mouth. He was sitting across the fire from Thomas, and Thomas had to look away before he had another issue in his jeans. He decided to use the restroom and then go to sleep, not wanting to go through any more torture of today. His mind was spinning from the alcohol, and it was a welcome distraction from all of the stress that he usually felt - stress that pressed deeply into his mind at every moment of the day. 

He stumbled around the side of the trucks and ducked into the trees to do his business. As he walked back towards the side of the Jeeps, where his and Newt's sleeping bags lay, he was surprised to see that his bed was vacated already. Newt was crouching near his bed, pulling the soft blanket out from where it was tucked away inside of the sleeping bag. Thomas laughed, his drunken mind finding it more funny than it probably was. Newt didn't even glance up as Thomas approached.

Without thinking, Thomas dropped to his knees and slid inside of his sleeping bag. It was unzipped, so the top of the sleeping bag was more like a blanket itself, so it was easy to slide right in. He lay on top of the blanket that Newt was trying to steal. Newt scowled at him, his bottom lip pouting slightly. Thomas laughed at how adorable Newt was, although his face was slightly going out of focus. 

“I want your blanket.”

“Too bad,” Thomas teased, although he knew that he would give it to him in a heartbeat. He just liked to see the pout on the blonde boy’s lips. Although he tried not to think about his sleep deprived vision of kissing Newt, his drunken state allowed the thoughts to swarm around his thoughts like wasps. The thoughts poked and prodded every corner of his mind, and didn’t seem to want to budge. The image of him eating the peaches from his fingers practically had his mouth watering.

The hard, cold floor of The Scorch pressed firmly on back as he stared up at Newt, who was still crouching above him. It was much too cold all of a sudden - so cold that goosebumps erupted on his skin. The freezing cold air of the night time in The Scorch was never bearable, but his special spot near the Jeep usually helped a bit, since it blocked out a little wind. Suddenly, though, it seemed unbearable. He wanted Newt with him.

The liquor in him was a welcome feeling, although the warmth of it in his body had apparently suddenly vanished with the longing of the other boy’s body next to his. The alcohol made him forget about everything else for a moment - Minho, WCKD, the ending of the world. Since he forgot about all of the bad things for a moment, though, all those thoughts were replaced with something else.

_Newt._

“Tommy,” Newt whined, reaching out with those long fingers. He grabbed the material of the blanket, but didn’t pull. He stared down at it and ran his fingers through the soft fabric - blonde locks almost falling into his eyes. His hair was getting long again. Thomas would have to cut it soon.

Newt’s long fingers kept running through the soft fabric of the blanket, which rested on Thomas’s collarbone. Newt didn’t even seem to notice - which was giving Thomas’s heart a rough time in return.

“You can have it,” Thomas heard himself say. His voice sounded as if it was molasses - slowly churning out. Hands stopping their wandering, Newt looked up at his face, considering the option. His eyes were red and hazy, the alcohol still having a strong effect. Even though very red, his chocolate eyes were as beautiful as always. Although Newt was the sun itself, there seemed to be stars shining in those eyes.

“But it’s cold,” Newt muttered, eyes dipping back down to the blanket. His hands began to move again, fingers running through the fabric once more. “You would be cold.”

It _was_ an exceptionally cold night. Thomas would give him the whole world if he could, though.

“No, take it,” Thomas insisted, reaching up to clumsily grab the blanket. He was about to pull it off of himself and out of the sleeping bag, when Newt pressed his palms flat on Thomas’s chest to have the blanket stay in place.

He hoped that Newt couldn’t feel his heart thudding away under the blanket - hoped that he wouldn’t know how _nervous_ Thomas was becoming. Thomas, despite being tipsy, knew that he had never felt so nervous in his life.

Usually, he didn’t have enough time to think through major and stupid decisions to be nervous. While they were escaping the glade, while he was fighting a griever, he didn’t have time to be nervous. He just _went for it._ He was able to fight off a griever but not handle the close proximity of Newt?

“It’s cold,” Newt repeated stupidly, eyes still cast down and now focused on his hands on Thomas’s chest. 

Without warning, Newt clumsily clambered over him, his knee jabbing into Thomas’s thigh painfully. Thomas groaned at the pain, reaching down to hold onto the sore spot as Newt finally ended up on the other side. Without warning, Newt slid onto his butt, lifted the blanket, and shimmied into the sleeping bag with Thomas.

When Newt settled in next to Thomas, arms and legs pressed against him, warmth unlike anything he had ever felt washed over him. The scent of Newt - a scent resembling vanilla that seemed to follow him everywhere - made him dizzy with how close and intoxicating it was. They both lay on their backs, side by side, under the night sky.

“We can share it,” Thomas said stupidly. Newt didn’t reply.

He didn’t reply verbally, that is. Newt suddenly turned on his side, his chest now pressed against Thomas’s arm, his knees pressing into his own, and his nose a few inches away from his cheek.

“You smell good.”

Thomas realized, in horror, that he had spoken aloud. Newt let out a sloppy, quiet laugh. More of a breathing through his nose type of laugh.

“Do I?”

His voice, although sloppy from being drunk, was _deep._ Much deeper than normal? He was speaking slowly, too, as if he was...

It was Thomas’s turn not to respond.

Newt breathed a laugh again. Thomas flinched in surprise at a sudden touch to his arm. Warm fingers pressed against his forearm. Thomas’s eyes fluttered closed. He heard Newt shift on the sleeping bag next to him.  

His breath, much closer than it had been the moment previously, was fanning across his neck now.

“I can’t smell you,” Newt admitted, his voice still slow and deeper than normal, although still shaky from the liquor. His warm breath caused a shiver to run down Thomas’s spine. “You’re too far away. Do you smell good?”

“I doubt it. Won’t Minho get jealous that you’re not cuddling with him instead?” Thomas asked, trying to divert his attention away from the roughness of Newt’s voice. His eyes were still closed, but he didn’t have to open them to see that Newt was way too close.

“He already knows that you’re my favorite person,” Newt explained, as if he didn’t steal Thomas’s heart and breath at the statement. His heart swelled and pressure filled his chest.

Suddenly, the breath of Newt was even closer. Thomas felt Newt shift so that he could press even closer to Thomas. Something cold brushed against his neck, causing his eyes to snap open. All he could see in the side of his vision was blonde hair. It was Newt’s _nose_ that was brushing against his damn neck. Thomas heard him take a deep inhale, his whole body erupting in goosebumps at the feeling and sound.

”You smell like peaches,” Newt observed, voice still rough and velvety. “Just like peaches.”

”I do?” Thomas asked, completely forgetting that they had eaten the damn things earlier. His mind was spinning, and those soft gold locks were brushing against his jaw. Newt let out a deep breath as a laugh. Thomas shivered at the warm breath that cast across his neck. 

His jeans embarrassingly became painfully tight very quickly. He wished that Newt wasn’t pressing up against him, just solely because he loved the feeling way too much. He felt, with the haziness from the alcohol, the stars above, and Newt’s smell and warmth, that he was in heaven itself. To Hell with WCKD.

”You’re stupid,” Newt muttered, although his voice was teasing. His breath was causing Thomas to have breathing _and_ heart issues. “Are you that drunk, Tommy?”

Those last words that left Newt’s lips were formed on Thomas’s neck. His lips were on his neck.

His lips were on his neck. 

They had brushed against his neck as he had spoken. The warmth from Newt’s soft lips, and the way that he had said his name in that velvety voice, made Thomas’s cock and heart twitch at the same time. 

At the silence after his question, Newt laughed once more. “That’s okay, my Tommy. Go to sleep.”

He thought he was asleep? No way in hell.

”Okay,” Thomas breathed, unable to say anything else.

Newt moved his lips slowly upward, still brushing against his neck gently. His soft lips stilled in a knee weakening spot under his ear. Thomas felt his lips lightly part, felt the warmth of the inside of his lips against his neck. Newt pressed a gentle, soft kiss to his neck.

The small motion was so sensual and intimate that Thomas couldn’t help but make a small noise in the back of his throat. He felt Newt’s teeth brush against the base of his throat then, obviously smiling at his noise in response to the kiss. His cock was aching, the pressure between his legs unimaginable. The tip of Newt’s tongue gently touched Thomas’s neck as he placed a drunk, sloppy, and slightly wet kiss on the same place. He had kissed him with his _tongue_ against his neck.

His tongue. His _fucking_ tongue.

Then, as if the moment hadn’t even happened, Newt let out a small burp against his neck. He then dropped his head to land onto Thomas’s shoulder. His breathing evened out after a few moments, sleep finding him quickly.  
  
Thomas tried to count every star in the sky to distract himself from the pain in between his legs. In the middle of the night, in his sleep, Newt had wrapped an arm around Thomas’s, and bent his leg so his knee partly lay on top of Thomas’s thigh.

Thomas had never felt so lost, but also so  _found_ in his life. 

Sitting there under the stars, Newt’s head laying on his shoulder, he swore that there wasn’t any place that he would rather be. Not even in the Safe Haven.

 

 

 

**2 WEEKS BEFORE THE BATTLE OF WCKD/NEWT'S "DEATH"**

6 months before present day

-

 

 

"I know you've all been through hell. I wish I could say your troubles are over," Vince said in the distance, speaking to the hoard of kids that they had just saved. There were _so many_ kids. Everyone was there. Everyone but Minho. 

Thomas stood with his arms crossed, leaning against a far off, worn down building as he watched Vince speak to the children. The seagulls were cawing, the sun was bright and beautiful, the blue water shimmering around them, and yet Thomas couldn't be in a worse mood.

"But we're not through this yet. WCKD is still out there, they're not giving up. Cuz you got something they want. They took you because you're immune to a plague that's wiping out the human race -"

" _And you're all a cure,"_ A familiar voice teased behind him. Thomas looked behind his shoulder to see Newt approaching, a dirty long sleeve clinging to him. He had on the same sad, small smile that he had on whenever he tried to be brave for everyone else. "All Vince likes to do is talk, huh?"

Thomas just shrugged, turning to look away from Newt. He didn't want to talk. Not even to Newt. Especially to Newt. They didn't find Minho. They didn't find _anyone._ They knew no one on that train. Just a bunch of kids. Thomas felt awful for not caring about the kids. He felt awful about only caring about only two things in this world - both of which were slipping farther from his grasp with every moment that passed.  

Newt had told him about the flare inside of him last night. Thomas wanted him to stay back on their mission to overthrow the train, but he had resisted. Of course he had resisted.

Not only was Thomas losing Newt, but he couldn't even fucking find Minho.

"Thomas," Newt said, suddenly right next to him. He reached out those long, lean fingers, and Thomas flinched away from them. Newt's face, shocked and sad, made Thomas want to take the motion back. He didn’t mean to hurt his feelings at all. Newt's face scrunched sightly in annoyance. "Just because I have the bloody virus doesn't mean I'll kill you just yet."

Thomas ignored his sarcastic jab - ignored the pain stabbing through his chest at the words.

_The virus._

_"You're all a cure."_

So why hadn't they found one yet? Why was Newt still dying?

Paralyzing fear filled Thomas so quickly that his knees almost buckled.

"I'm lost, Newt," Thomas whispered, his thoughts betraying him. He couldn't keep it in anymore. "I'm so lost." 

He hadn’t meant to say it, but was glad he had. The weight pressing on his shoulders lifted slightly, although the weight on his chest tightened all the same. He wasn’t scared of admitting that he was scared anymore. Newt was leaving. There wasn’t any more time to be prideful.

Newt stared at him for a moment, not saying a word. The light danced off of his chocolate eyes and golden hair, although this time it had no effect on Thomas.

Thomas had never felt so helpless. He truly was lost. Looking at Newt, knowing that he couldn’t help him, made his heart ache. He was becoming numb, he could feel it. He was throwing a wall up - shielding everyone from him. He couldn’t help it. Looking at Newt, thinking of Newt, was too painful. The wall had began to build the moment that Newt had told him about the flare.

Thomas knew that if he didn’t back away from everything - away from everyone - he wouldn’t be able to handle this cruel world anymore.  

“You’re not lost. You never have been, and you never will be. That’s not you.” 

“You have no idea how lost I am,” Thomas whispered, eyes unable to stray from Newt’s now. Concern was deepening in Newt’s face, annoyance completely faded away. “I don’t know how to get through this.” 

He would never lose himself like this in front of anyone else, and Newt knew this.

Newt finally broke eye contact. He glanced at the group of kids in the distance in front of them. As Thomas studied Newt, he could practically see a hazy sheen around him. He was distancing himself from everyone so much that he felt disconnected with reality. Everything was becoming out of focus and unclear.

He was losing his mind.

Or, he was having a panic attack. He didn’t know that though.  

It was a breath that would never be fully complete - a word on the tip of his tongue that wouldn’t ever be found. He was standing on the edge of a tall building, and all he wanted to do was jump.

Newt turned in front of him so that his body was blocking Thomas’s from view of the group. The kids disappeared, and all that was left was Newt in front of him. Newt reached out and grabbed hold of Thomas’s wrist.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Thomas heard himself whisper. Newt’s eyes, staring deeply into his, didn’t seem to even sway the terror harbored deep inside of him like it usually would. Newt was leaving. Newt was leaving him. “I’m so lost, Newt. I have no idea what I’m doing anymore.”

“None of us know what we are doing,” Newt muttered, fingers pressing into the pulse at his wrist. His fingers were warm from the scorching sun, seeping deep into him. “We are all lost, Tommy. All of us.” 

“But you’re leaving,” Thomas whispered, his voice barely escaping with a sound. He felt as if his throat was closing in on him. It was betraying him with every moment that passed. “I can’t… I'm not strong enough for this. I can't do this.”

“You are strong enough. You're strong enough for anything. You _can_ do this. You’re the best leader, Thomas,” Newt muttered. Thomas felt his hands shaking, his knees shaking, his heart stuttering to a stop. It was all too much. Seeing the man that he loved in front of him, knowing that he would be gone soon, was too much for him to handle. “You don’t need to be leader, though, Thomas. You can always leave this. You can always-“

“Let’s run away,” Thomas pleaded. His vision was blurring more by the second. He didn’t even realize that it was tears that were blurring his vision until Newt’s gentle fingers came up to brush them away. Newt dropped his wrist and used both hands to wipe away the tears - used both hands to cup Thomas’s face. Newt was suddenly just a step away from him.  

“Where do you want to go?” Newt asked, eyes searching Thomas’s face as he lost his composure. Thomas couldn’t see his own face - couldn’t see the shaking lips and teary eyes. He couldn’t see how his whole body shook and how his breathing was heaving his chest up and down rapidly. “We can go anywhere. Just name it. I’ll take you there.” 

“Away. Away from here. Away from all of this.” 

“Okay,” Newt whispered. His voice sounded broken to Thomas’s ears, and through his own tears, he couldn’t see Newt’s had begun to fall. “Okay, let’s go then. You and me, okay?”

“You and me,” Thomas repeated in a whisper, his panic attack still intensely coursing through his body. Newt kept wiping the tears streaming down Thomas’s face away with his thumbs, hands still cupping his cheeks with his warm hands. “Please. Please don’t…”

“I’d follow you anywhere,” Newt muttered, thumbs still dragging away the tears on Thomas’s cheeks. “You already know that, Tommy.”

“But you can’t this time,” Thomas whispered. He closed his eyes, the pain beginning to be too overwhelming. His voice was now far away - trapped somewhere between them. “You can’t follow me this time.”

Newt didn’t respond. He just kept wiping away the tears until Thomas could breathe again.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my version:  
> Thomas does not meet Aris in Janson's facility.  
> They do not find Aris, Sonya, or Harriet yet.  
> All three are still unknown to them all.  
> They will meet them soon.
> 
> also remember: all panic attacks differ from person to person! 
> 
> Here's an early treat for you all :)
> 
> Happy New Years Eve!!!  
> I hope that if this year didn't go too well, that 2019 is even better than you expect it to be. I know that things get very hard, but there is always possibility for wonderful things after all the bad shit. 
> 
> I thank you all for ending this year with me. I haven't been on ao3 very long, but i have made so many friends and am so thankful to every single reader and friend out there. You all made my 2018 the best. I am so inspired by you all and feel so supported and loved on this website - more than I have in my entire life. I owe you all the world, and you all deserve it. 
> 
> HAPPY 2019!!!
> 
> All my love!!!! All of it!!!!  
> Amy xxx


	6. mailbox

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
>  
> 
> for Aga, for being an amazing friend and for hearing about this before it even started 
> 
>  
> 
> -

 

 

**PRESENT DAY**

2:34 AM

 

Thomas looked down - looked at their fingers intertwined in the space between them. Where he should have felt the body heat of Newt’s lean fingers, should have felt their embrace - he was only met with the cold breeze of the meadow around them. He should have felt his fingers against his, he should have felt _something._ But, he didn’t. He could only stare down at their fingers and wish that he felt it.  

“Coming to find me?”

Thomas glanced up at Newt, catching those brown eyes that were already looking down at him. Newt’s head was hanging low, so close to his that Thomas’s heart slowed at the sight. Newt’s eyes looked longingly into his, slightly unfocused and hazy.

“You asked me that already." 

“Well, you’re the only one who thinks I’m still dead.”

“Well aren’t you?”

There was a moment of silence. They were sitting in taller grass, small flowers blooming from the weeds. The winds was still blowing softly, almost as if it knew not to disturb the moment. The sun was shining down brightly - almost a bit too bright.

“Why don’t you come find out?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Newt. It hurts too much to pretend you are. It’s  like I’m starting to believe it. I know you’re not.”

Chocolate eyes bore deep into him, leaving him in a trance. They weren’t kind, they weren’t hopeful - just intense. The intensity sent shivers up and down Thomas’s spine. Newt’s eyes, locked onto his, were determined. 

“You’re getting closer.”

Thomas’s eyes slowly opened, his body too exhausted to jerk awake from the nightmare. He kept on his side, the shadows of the nights fire dancing across his face. He had fallen asleep as he was eating his food, the small bowl overturned by his head. The spoon was actually still in his hand - being clutched so tightly that his knuckles were white. 

The feeling that the nightmare left; the holding of their hands, the beautiful spring day, the ominous words, all buried deep into his soul.

It was a gaping hole. It was as if someone had punched him in the chest - left him gasping and disoriented. It was something that he was sure could never heal - could never close up again. Those brown eyes hung suspended in his mind at every moment. No one could ever fill the hole in his chest - in his heart. It was an aching pain that would last a lifetime. 

_You’re getting closer._

He knew he wasn’t getting closer to finding Newt alive.

So what was he getting closer to?

Most days, he felt so overwhelmed and attacked by his thoughts. They would never slow down, never silence themselves. His head ached constantly by the awful things. He always felt too overwhelmed. He wished sometimes that he could end it all.

So, maybe that was it?

Maybe he was getting closer to finding Newt in another life. In heaven. In hell. He wasn’t sure what there was. But there was a longing to make everything _stop._ He wanted his thoughts, his feelings, this fucking _sadness_ to stop. He wanted to end it all.

It wasn’t just the loss of Newt that was making him want to end everything. It was _everything_ that made him want to end everything. All the stress from before, all the pressure, has left him broken. He wouldn’t ever quite heal from the maze, from the scorch, or from WCKD itself. He couldn’t heal from it all.

Sure, the Safe Haven was great. It was a place where families could be together and where people could be safe and happy forever. No worries. Nothing. 

But for Thomas, it was almost like a prison sentence. He would have to sit around and look at everyone being safe and happy with their families when he had lost everything.

Sure, being friend with Minho, Fry and Gally was great. He loved his friends. There wasn’t anything that was making him grow though, making his life worth living for the rest of it. He was a hollow shell of his previous self. He wouldn’t self grow in the Safe Haven. He would stay stationary. He would make a few houses for happy families and die alone. 

Was it worth it? 

Thomas let go of the spoon gripped in his fist and turned over onto his other side.

 

-

 

The boys’ had gone back to the small house every day for a week. The people who were living there hadn’t turned up again - or at least not to their knowledge. They all could have sworn that there were less clothes each time, but they had chalked it up to their eyes playing tricks on them. Either the people didn’t want to be found, or weren’t coming back at all. 

Whoever it was, Thomas was sure that they just didn’t want to be found. They had to know that someone was snooping through their belongings. They had to be watching them. There was no way that they would have left all of those supplies behind randomly, and very unlikely that they had all died. 

The four boys had been running out of supplies, and made a quick run back to the Safe Haven. When they had returned, they all took a nice hot shower and finally had a decent sit down meal. Thomas avoided everyone at all costs, even going so far as to bringing his food to his bed so that he didn’t see Rafael. He couldn’t even remember the younger boys name that he had attacked, but he was sure he hadn’t seen him either.

Of course, that didn’t stop everyone from seeing _him,_ though. He was stared at constantly, but he couldn’t tell if they were looks of pity or anger. Maybe both. Probably both.

The traveling took about two days, and then they were back at their mission of searching for a ghost. Searching for a ghost, and a few people who didn’t want to be found. 

The other boys’, slightly discouraged from the lack of evidence that the group was still around, had decided to start searching through the abandoned city buildings instead. They looked day and night, trying to hide their disappointment. They weren’t getting any closer. Their lead had led them nowhere.

Due to the intensity of his now frequent nightmares, Thomas was beginning to retract from himself day by day. He was eating less and started to feel very out of touch with reality. There were a few times where there was an hour of his life that he couldn’t recall. He heard all of the boys’ whispering about it when they thought he was asleep. They were all worried about him, and Thomas wished more than anything that he wasn’t a burden to them. 

He was a shell of his previous self. There wasn’t anything of substance left.

Every night, every time he closed his eyes and dreamed, there was Newt. Every night, he would tell Thomas the same thing:   

_“You’re getting closer.”_

Thomas was starting to feel as if the nightmares were real instead of the reality. At least Newt was alive in his nightmares. 

On this day, which was probably their 8th day since they had first found the now abandoned resting place of the group, the sun was blazing down harshly on them. In between the mountains where they usually were, there was always a light wind that swept through between them. Today, among all of the abandoned buildings and toppled over remains of the city, it was as bright as could be. The sun bounced off of old window and glass, casting off a horrible burning sensation as they walked past the old stores.

The garbage here was overwhelming. Thomas had to look down quite a bit to make sure he wasn’t stepping on any remains of any kind. There were a few times where a certain familiar rancid stench reached their noses, and they stayed clear of the heaps of garbage that emitted these. If it was the stench of the infected, animals, or just regular people, they didn’t want to go closer to find out. 

Thomas, who had a big shotgun strapped across him, had moved a bit farther away from the group as they searched. He had caught sight of an old sign for a post office over the buildings a bit further ahead. The other boys were picking through an old convenience store connected to a gas station, and decided to let him go. Since they knew Thomas didn’t want to be bothered, the rest of the boys’ let him be as he strayed away from them. He could feel their stares on his back, though. In order to have the stares cut off, he walked briskly through the rubble on the ground and made his way to the post office. 

He had only been able to see the huge, beat up sign for the post office from a distance. It hung over the rest of the buildings, in order to make the buildings presence known. As Thomas turned down that street, the other boys’ stares fading from view, the rundown building came into clear view. The windows were busted out, and there were papers spilled out everywhere. There were packages which had been looted through, and garbage entering through the propped open door. There was a huge mailbox in front of building, the only in tack thing in sight. 

The mailbox was the kind where people put their own letters in, and was absolutely huge. It was wide in size, and an old blueish color with chipping paint.

Thomas began walking forwards, looking down as he walked in order to not trip from all of the rubbish. He didn’t know how he knew what a post office was, but something was drawing him closer to it. He was being careless with his gun, not even holding onto it anymore. It gently bumped against his chest with each step towards the building. Thomas, eyes still cast down as he stared at the papers on the floor, stopped as the wind picked up. It made the papers flutter slightly, the breeze lifting some and having them drift away with it. As Thomas watched the gentle motion in the chaotic rubble of the city, he took a deep breath and tried to calm his mind once more. 

He began walking towards the intact mailbox, the huge thing seeming to be totally out of place in this awful city. As soon as he approached it, though, there was a cock of a gun. 

The sound triggered something inside of him, something so terrifying and foreign. Genuine _fear._ That was not Gally, Minho or Fry. They hadn’t somehow magically appeared in front of him. This was someone completely different. Not an infected that barely had a sense of up and down. It was a real threat.

A body swiftly rose in front of him from behind the mailbox, and Thomas realized too late that he should have noticed the boots that were peeking out from under the mailbox’s other side. 

The hairs stood up on his entire body, a cold sweat erupting along with pins and needles. The cold breeze was still ruffling through the abandoned city, the papers scattering gently about, the sun scorching down - but everything was _not_ the same.  

He had gotten too close to the person for their comfort. They obviously hadn’t wanted to be found - hadn’t wanted to hurt him. They had been hoping that he would walk the other direction. They had no choice but to defend themselves if he was about to walk right up to them, though.

Thomas continued to stare at the dirty black boots that were visible under the huge mailbox. His hair softly tumbled in the breeze that still drifted through the street around them. He slowly rose his eyes upwards, slowly dared to finally look at the person who had a gun pointed at his head. 

The gun was pointed straight at his head, alright. Right between his eyes - about two feet away. Thomas’s eyes trailed up the gun pointed in his face to the face behind it. 

Chocolate brown eyes met his from the other side of the gun.

Thomas, without his consent, fell to his knees on the ruined street. His vision went blurry - went dark at the edges. He felt the skin on his knees tear open and he began bleeding from the harsh motion against the ruined, uneven ground. He felt the pain in his knees even less then the pain in his chest.

_There was absolutely no way._

 

 

 

**The Glade**

**The First Night**

8:45 PM

 

There was music playing, people laughing, people drinking, and a huge bonfire going. Despite his terror of his current situation, Thomas couldn’t help but wonder how homemade instruments could sound so nice - the drum beats echoing around them in the night sky. He wondered how everyone could feel so at home and _careless_ with each other. After all he had seen today, how could anyone laugh and cheer?

He was sitting on the slightly damp grass with his back against a huge log - his back to all of the festivities going on. He felt lost and out of place, his thoughts still jumbled up beyond belief. His eyes didn’t dare leave the huge looming walls in the faraway darkness - standing tall and terrifying. _What had all that been about?_ What could be out there? 

Gally was an asshole.

Thomas didn’t hear anyone approach, so the sudden sight of someone’s dirty jean legs in front of him startled him. He heard a light laugh in response to his slight jump of terror. and glanced up just in time for the blonde boy from earlier to kneel down and take a seat next to him. Newt. Chocolate eyes locked with his as he slowly sat - a reassuring but hesitant smile on the blondes face. 

“Here, thought you might be hungry.”

Thomas hadn’t even noticed the skewers in the boys hand. His mind was still rattling around from earlier, and the loud noises of people celebrating didn't seem to be helping him all that much. In Newt’s other hand was a glass jar, with a darker liquid that Thomas couldn’t place. The blonde placed the jar down on the grass between them before taking a skewer from his other hand and offering it to Thomas. He held it out with long, lean fingers. 

“You probably don’t feel hungry, but best to eat, yeah?” Newt took a bite of his own immediately, not even looking at the meat beforehand. 

Thomas took a deep breath as he reached out to take the skewer from his new friend, his mind still spinning wildly. He was careful not to touch his skin. “Thanks, Newt.” 

Although his mind was buzzing, Thomas couldn’t help but realize how attractive the blonde was. Easily the most attractive boy that he had seen in this damn prison cell.

Newt’s eyes, although dark in color, seemed to shine at him through the darkness. “Anytime, mate. What’s your name?”

“Thomas,” Thomas muttered, finally breaking eye contact from the blonde so that he could look down at the skewer now clutched tightly in his shaky hand. He felt awful for staring so long at the boy, but he hadn’t seemed able to look away. 

The meat looked surprisingly good, and Thomas’s stomach rumbled at the sight of the slightly charred piece. He slowly prodded at it with one finger, wanting to take a bite but unsure as to how his queasy stomach would react to it. 

In the corner of his eye, Thomas saw Newt pull his legs up to his chest - a motion that he would unknowingly come to recognize as Newt feeling unsure about something in the months to come. Thomas would later learn that Newt always wanted to huddle in on himself whenever he wasn’t feeling very confident, always wanted to fold in half like a pretzel. 

Thomas would later learn that Newt loved being held, too. 

“Well, Thomas,” Newt said next to him, his voice hesitating on his name. “Welcome to The Glade.”

Thomas didn’t answer, not trusting his words. He knew that if he asked any more questions, he would be turned down. He would have to be patient to receive any information. On the other hand, he didn’t want to _stop_ talking, in fear that the blonde next to him would leave his side and join the group having fun behind them. Why would he even be over here in the first place?

“It’s alright here, once you get to know it,” Newt went on, his reassuring voice actually putting Thomas slightly at ease. He still stared at his skewer though, too worried that he wouldn’t be able to control his staring again. “I know it’s bloody scary right now, but it will right itself quick.”

“Thanks,” Thomas muttered, eyes still on his skewer. He slowly pinched a piece of meat between his fingers and slid it off of the top of the sharp piece of wood, slowly placing it into his mouth. It was flavourful, and very good. Thomas was surprised that food could taste this good in a place like this.

“Good?” Newt asked next to him, sounding genuinely curious. Thomas nodded, chewing the piece in his mouth as he grabbed another.

“All thanks to Frypan, that is,” Newt said, reaching down in between them and grabbing the small jar. He held it out to Thomas to try. “He loves to hear compliments for the chef. Might have to go do that, mate.”

Thomas gratefully took the jar from Newt, not realizing how thirsty he had been. He took a big sip.

“Oh my God, what _is that?”_ Thomas demanded through a choking fit, halfway bent over from the pain in his throat and chest. He heard Newt chuckle next to him as he thrust the jar back at the blonde.

“I don’t even know. It’s Gally’s recipe,” Newt said, turning to look behind him at the group of boys being rowdy. The volume had increased dramatically, but Thomas didn’t care enough to look back. “It’s a trade secret.” 

“Yeah, well he’s still an asshole,” Thomas muttered, unable to help himself. He didn’t want to bash a friend of the one person that he was getting along with here, but he couldn’t help but speak the thought aloud. Gally _was_ an asshole.

Newt, being the calming presence that Thomas could tell he was from the moment he met him, turned his head towards Thomas to study the side of the brunettes face. He stayed silent for a moment, before Thomas could hear a slight smile in his voice. He still felt Newt’s eyes on the side of his face. “He saved your life, today. Trust me. The maze is a dangerous place.”

Thomas turned his head to catch the eyes that were staring at him, but Newt had turned to take a swig of the jar once more. He stared at Newt as Newt in turn stared at the huge, looming walls in front of them in silence.

The thought that Thomas held in his head all day spilled out without his consent. “We’re trapped here, aren’t we?”

He glanced at Newt, wondering if he had pushed the ‘don’t ask questions’ rule too far. Newt didn’t look at him at first, though. He kept his gaze on the huge walls in front of them. After a few moments, Newt turned to glance at him, a small smile on his face. He looked as if he knew something that Thomas didn’t.

“For the moment.”

 

 

 

 

**The Burning of WCKD/Newt’s “death”**

10:56 PM

 

Newt was still partially okay. That was all that Thomas could think of when Janson had popped out of nowhere. They had been running through the burning building, Newt much slower than normal from the flare, as they tried to find their way out. They had just spotted the night sky - had just spotted the double doors leading to it when Janson turned the opposite corner. He had been going at a run, sprinting even, towards the exit as well.

Janson collided into Thomas, sending them both spilling onto the marble floor. Before Thomas could react, Janson reached out and grabbed hold of his coat. He heard Newt yell out, saw him dash forward, but it was too late.

“You little shit! You ruined everything!” 

A searing pain erupted in Thomas’s shoulder, pain like nothing he had ever felt before. Of course, besides the griever sting. Which, unfortunately, hurt about the same amount. Janson’s weight was quickly yanked off of him, but Thomas landed on his back on the cold marble floor, the air knocked out of him and the knife still lodged in his shoulder.

Thomas struggled to breath, slowly lifting his head to look at the blade dug deep into his shoulder with hazy eyes. The heel of it was practically touching his coat. A quick motion above him caught his attention, the shock from being stabbed quickly fading away. 

Newt had grabbed Janson - had flung him into the nearest wall. Janson fell with a heap, groaning in pain. Thomas quickly grabbed hold of the handle of the knife without thinking, and pulled.

He cried out, causing Newt to whip around. God, that hurt. He almost passed out, light erupting in his vision. He slowly sat up, gasping for air. He watched as Janson stood, reaching for something in his long black coat as he stared at Newt’s turned back with rage. Thomas, although he was half conscious at this point, yanked his body up and threw himself clumsily at Janson. The knife was clutched in his fist - ready to be returned to its owner. 

The men collided with the wall once more. Janson’s enraged face came into view for a split second before Thomas yanked up his bad arm and slammed the assholes head back against the wall to hold him steady. As Janson struggled, anger quickly turning to fear, Thomas pulled up his good arm and did his best to sink the knife as deeply as it would go between Janson’s eyes. 

The gun that Janson had pulled from his coat clattered to the floor. The life in Janson’s face was quickly diminished, blood spilling down to cover his eyes as well. There was a silence as he slid against the wall, blood spilling all over Thomas and all over the floor. Thomas staggered backward from the sheer force of what he had done, the knife still sunk deeply into Janson’s skull.

“Fucking good riddance,” Newt spat, reaching out to grab hold of Thomas’s coat. He held him up as best as he could in the moment. His voice quickly became frantic with worry. “How are you doing? He got you good. Please tell me you’re doing alright, Tommy.” 

“I should be asking you that,” Thomas gasped, the pain in his shoulder unbelievable. “You’re the one going through it.” He turned towards Newt and partially sank into his body. Newt’s body heat was too warm - way too warm. He was dying. 

“I’m fine, Tommy. Let’s go, okay? We’re almost out.” 

Thomas pointed lamely to the gun on the floor with his bad arm. It hung limply at his side. 

“Grab it please,” Thomas gasped. Newt, still holding Thomas steady with one arm as he held him close to his body, leaned over to snatch the gun from the floor. Newt reached over to tuck it into Thomas’s waist band. 

Being this close, Thomas could hear Newt’s breathing racking through his body. He was basically panting. Catching sight of Newt’s neck, Thomas saw purple, blue and black veins scurrying up his neck. 

He was losing the fight. 

They began walking toward the glass doors again, much more slowly this time. They had just reached the double doors leading onto the roof when Newt fell. It was a sudden motion, nothing progressive, and he was suddenly falling into Thomas as if he lost consciousness. 

Newt’s face was becoming swarmed with the veins now, too. His partly open eyes were clouded over in a color that Thomas couldn’t describe. As he was hunched into Thomas, he could see his whole world fading away. His sun was diminishing.

“Don’t you dare, Newt!” Thomas yelled, gripping onto the top of boys arms. He didn’t wake up. His efforts were useless.

Through the pain, he felt a surge of adrenaline. He was Newt’s last hope. As Newt was sliding down onto the floor from his lack of consciousness, Thomas knelt slowly and threw him over his good shoulder in the fireman’s hold. 

Shooting Ava Paige in the forehead felt better than Thomas had ever expected. 

Thomas was now running on purely adrenaline - bursting through the double doors as smoke and debris littered the air and settled in his lungs. Bits of the burning building fell lazily down onto the ground around the boys, forcing Thomas to dodge everything and watch every step he took. He was gasping in the dirty air as he ran, Newt thrown over his shoulder as if he weighed nothing. Newt _couldn’t_ weigh anything right now. Thomas was taking him to safety - to whatever safety was. He was not going to let Newt die. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to the boy who had been there for him through everything, no questions asked. Without hesitation.

The first thought that Thomas had when he finally saw Ava Paige was that she looked _horrible._  There was fear on her face, mixing with the ash from the burning WCKD building behind them that was smeared across her face. There was light debris tangled in her hair, making it look like a blonde nest. She had somehow lost a shoe in the process, her clothing ripped to tatters and absolutely filthy. Her eyes shone bright despite her appearance. In fear or determination, Thomas didn’t know.

He had stopped, almost as if without his consent, at the sight of the woman in front of him. She stood there, the night sky bright behind her and illuminating her as if she was a hologram again before him. Although there was ash clustering inside of his lungs, the shock from seeing the woman seemed to leave him unable to breathe in.

Brenda and Minho were on the same roof, so close. So, _so_ close. They were waiting for the berg to arrive. Thomas, though, couldn’t take his eyes off of the woman in front of him. Everything was suddenly Ava. Nothing else mattered. He couldn’t even hear Minho call out. Thomas couldn’t see Minho and Brenda watching the scene unfold.

The two were watching, terrified of Thomas’s face. He had never seen him look so lost, but also so determined. 

“She’s not worth it, Thomas! _Come on_!”

Minho knowing it was pointless to yell, took a step forward to help. Brenda glanced over at him, horror on her face as well. They both hated Ava, but they didn’t have the time to deal with her. They didn’t want Thomas to try anything. She wasn’t worth it. She would die with the building, her memory turning to ash as well. So why wasn’t Thomas running towards them?

“Stop, he’s not right in the head right now. If you try to stop him, it will get worse,” Brenda whispered, terror in her voice. “He has a gun. Look at his waistband.”

They saw Newt hoisted over Thomas’s shoulder, obviously unconscious. His blonde hair was covered in ash, almost turning black.

 _Why wasn’t he running towards them?_  

They had no idea that Thomas had snapped.

Thomas, for so long, had kept it all together. He hadn’t lost his sanity with all that he had to deal with at such a young age. He knew how to handle everything to a certain extent. Even though he was overwhelmed, there was always the leader side of him that shone through. Seeing Newt the way he was, though, was a whole other demon. The leader in him had disappeared.

_Thomas couldn’t handle it._

After so long, his mind was finally in shatters -  finally unable to even think a single coherent thought. He was in shambles and falling apart. He was shaking in fear and panic, unable to get a grip on himself or his reality.

He felt as if he was going insane.

He _knew_ he was going insane.  

His thoughts didn’t form into one. His mind wouldn’t stop racing. 

_Newt._

_Do this for him._

Thomas calmly adjusted Newt, holding him tighter. The body heat of the boy calmed him to an extent. He was still alive. The body heat reassured him that he was still in some sort of reality - that this wasn’t some crazy nightmare.

Ava Paige looked hopeful for a moment, the expression on Thomas’s face seeming to reassure her. Her eyes searched Thomas’s eerily calm looking face, not seeing the warning signs bubbling to the surface. She stumbled forwards, as if she was hurt and struggling to move. Ash fell around her in clouds, debris falling out of her hair.   

“I promise everything can be fixed. I’ll do whatever I can to fix everything.”

Ava Paige did not see Thomas pull out the gun from his waistband with his bad arm as she begged. The begging really pulled at Thomas’s strings. Ava Paige moved even closer, shaking arms held out. She looked even worse up close, as if she had fought her way out of the burning building. Her signature red lipstick was smeared across her face as if she was The Joker. The dark, smoke filled air swirled around them in the night sky.

“Go to Hell, Ava,” Thomas whispered, the gun slowly lifting to the woman’s forehead. Thomas saw pure horror on the older woman’s face the moment he pulled the trigger. The wide, terror filled blue eyes lost the light within them in the blink of an eye and the sound of a gunshot. The sound of her body hitting the floor, almost like a rag doll, was eaten up by the night sky.

Without pausing to look at her, her blood now splattered on his face and clothes, Thomas slid the gun back in his belt and began running once again towards the two people watching, as if he hadn’t just murdered the woman of WCKD.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go ahead and scream at me in the comments! :)
> 
> I love talking to all of you! Honestly. <3
> 
> Fun fact, I wrote the bad memory MONTHS before I even thought of starting this. I saw @themazepunners tweet months after this and was way too scared to start it. I felt as if I would put her tweet to shame. 
> 
> Hopefully I haven’t. 
> 
> Thank you all for all of the endless support on here. I’ve never been more grateful for anything. I hope this makes up for the long wait. 
> 
> I am starting both work and school, and I'm going to be so stressed out and busy lol :( I’m going to be gone from 9 - 6:30 now. I hope everyone is having a great start of the year!
> 
> Thank you all from the bottom of my little ass heart. 
> 
> All my love,  
> Amy xxx


	7. my tommy,

**PRESENT DAY**

 

The silence seemed to stretch on forever.

“I’ll kill you, I swear I will,” the familiar voice said shakily above him. Thomas’s whole head was spinning, and at the voice, his chest seized up and he fell forward, his palms catching his fall. He felt the same pain in his palms that his knees had experienced, but he couldn’t care less. “You’ve been following us for weeks.”

“Go ahead,” Thomas whispered, voice broken and shaky. He spoke to the papers fluttering around on the floor - spoke to the boy that he knew he was imagining in front of him. He had finally broken in half. He was beyond repair. He was seeing things now. “Kill me, then. This is all a cruel nightmare anyway. I can finally be with you, Newt. Finally. Please fucking kill me.”

Either there was no person in front of him, and he was imagining the whole thing, or there was a random person pointing a gun at him that his mind forced him to believe it was the one person he wanted to see more than anything. He wished they would just kill him already.

“How do you know my name?” The voice was suddenly sounding very fearful then, all determination slipping away from them. “Who are you?”

All Thomas did was laugh at the blondes familiar voice.

“I never thought I’d hear your voice again. Never.” Thomas was speaking in such a broken voice - his voice betraying him with how shaky and uneven it was. He was surprised that any words were coming out of his mouth in general. His chest felt as if there was a million pounds of lead filling it and threatening to crush him from the inside out.

Thomas couldn’t believe how wonderful losing his mind was. He was finally able to see Newt one last time - was finally able to hear the voice that he missed more than anything. He couldn’t bring himself to look back up at the blonde just yet, though. He was fearful that if he looked up, he would disappear again. Looking at the ground full of rubbish was enough for now - just to hear his voice.

“Who are you?!” The voice was almost frantic then - demanding some sort of clarity on the confusing situation. Thomas just smiled sadly at the voice, unable to speak anymore.

“Thomas?” Gally’s voice rang out in the distance behind them. Thomas wanted more than anything to yell at him to go away, just for the moment. He wanted to let this person kill him so that he could finally get this over with.

“Come on, Newt,” Thomas whispered to the floor, his hands turning to fists underneath him. He had to let this out before the blonde in front of him disappeared just like he always did in his dreams. Maybe he already had. He had to let it out just once - _just once._

“Just do it. I’ve lost it. I've finally lost it.” Thomas laughed sadly. “I can’t breathe without you, Newt. Nothing makes sense without you. You left me, and you promised you would never. So please, _please._ For the love of God, take me back. Newt, kill me. Please.”

_“Thomas!”_

There were multiple clicks of guns, before utter silence. Thomas hadn’t heard the boys’ approach, hadn’t heard the terror in Gally’s voice as he saw someone pointing a gun at Thomas, who was bracing himself on the floor. They were all shocked, all wondering what had happened until they saw who was standing above Thomas.

Through the silence -

“Newt?” Minho’s voice, sounding broken. There was a small laugh, heartbreak and relief ringing through it.

_What?_

Thomas lifted his head slowly, the sun beating down painfully and blurring his vision. The blonde had moved the gun from Thomas to the boys’ behind him, the threat of three men much more than one broken and on his knees.

He was still there.

The blonde hair resembled his signature halo, the sun casting a beautiful light around it. Newt’s eyes switched quickly between the three boys’ and Thomas. He looked terrified. It was currently four against one. Well, three and a half. Thomas wasn’t doing too well.

The boys’ behind Thomas saw the fear in Newt’s eyes - saw the shaking of his hands on the huge pistol. They all dropped their guns, letting them swing back down to their bodies and holding their hands in the air. All three looked almost on the verge of tears - relief etched on every corner. Frypan, his skin glowing with sweat and from the sun, actually had let out a tear. His lips were shaking.

“Who are you? Why have you been following us?” Newt demanded, voice extremely shaky. Thomas kept his eyes up now - kept them locked on Newt. He was mesmerized by what could only be an apparition, a _hallucination_ of the boy he loved.

Gally, eyes almost watering himself, cleared his throat before speaking.

“Newt, I know you don’t remember us, but we’re-”

There was the sound of more guns being cocked, and everyone turned to look towards their right, where two women appeared, guns raised and pointed at the boys’ standing in the street. One had darker skin, and the other much more pale. They both looked terrifying, eyes trained on them all as if they were their prey.

They were obviously with Newt, because he didn’t point his gun at them, but Newt didn’t seem any more relieved. He seemed stressed out and confused, as he should be.

It was obvious that despite being saved, Newt’s memory hadn’t come back. He had no idea who any of them were.

“Keep going,” The darker skinner girl said, her dark eyes narrowing at Gally behind her gun. Her hands were not shaking like Newt’s. “Explain who you are.”

Despite all the sudden chaos, Thomas still hadn’t looked away from Newt. Newt kept glancing at him hesitantly, as if unsure if he should return the stare. Terror was still apparent on his face.

“We’re friends of Newt,” Frypan spoke up behind Gally, arms still raised like the others. His voice was steady despite the tears now flowing down his face. His eyes weren’t on the women though. They were trained onto Newt, just as Thomas’s was. “We knew him for years. He’s our best friend.”

There was a silence, and even the intimidating dark skinned woman looked suddenly unsure. She glanced over at Newt, not daring to make any decisions without his consent.

“You know I can’t remember,” Newt whispered, voice shaky and distressed. His hands shook as fearfully as his voice sounded. “I have no idea if they’re telling the truth.”

There was another silence, before Minho glanced over at Thomas. He was still folded in half on his knees on the floor, obviously broken at the thought that Newt was alive. Minho knew that Thomas never believed this - he barely did himself. He had no idea what kind of funk Thomas was in right now. He looked shattered, staring at Newt as if he was seeing the sun in the first time in years.

“Show him the letter, Thomas,” Minho said loudly, hoping his best friend heard him through whatever was going on in his mind in the moment. He did. Minho was shocked at the speed that Thomas’s head snapped back to look at him, eyes bugging out of his head in shock. Minho sighed, arms growing tired from being held up in the air for so long.

“I know you have it around your neck. Show him.”

“What letter?” Newt demanded at the same time that the darker skinned girl spoke. She was aggressive - Newt very curious. Minho looked up at Newt, ignoring Thomas who was still boring holes into his face.

Newt, for the first time in months, locked eyes with Minho. Minho’s heart ached at the sight, realizing that he truly had no idea if he would ever see him again. He was so doubtful this whole time, without even realizing it.

“That’s your handwriting, Newt. You wrote him a letter. It’s hanging around his neck.”

Frypan and Gally exchanged a look, shock evident on their faces. They had no idea what Minho was talking about.

“Before we do that,” Gally said loudly, sounding worn out. “Can we put our arms down? Mine are about to fall off.”

The darker skinned girl made a motion with her head, and the pale blonde girl scurried forward toward them. She slowly took off each of their guns, and slung them over her shoulder. The boys gratefully lowered their arms, rubbing at the areas that ached.

The pale girl hesitated at Thomas. She glanced over at the darker skinned woman again, who nodded. She walked towards Thomas hesitantly.

“Sonya,” Newt said quickly, stopping her from touching Thomas. “I don’t trust him. Don’t get closer.”

All three boys’ scoffed behind Thomas. The darker skinned girl raised her eyebrows behind the gun, looking sarcastic and curious.

“Something humorous?”

“Thomas would be the last person to hurt him,” Frypan muttered lowly, looking at Thomas who had now resumed back to looking at Newt. Newt kept up his swift glances at the brunette, who was really freaking him out.

“I’ll grab it,” Minho said, taking a step forward. The pale girl, Sonya, held up her gun to point at Minho once again as he walked forward.

“Harriet?” Sonya asked, sounding unsure. Harriet, the darker skinner girl, didn’t answer. Sonya in turn didn’t stop him, and Minho walked over to slip the gun off of Thomas’s body. He handed it to Sonya, who took it hesitantly.

“I assume you know what your handwriting looks like?” Minho sighed, looking up at Newt, who was now much closer to him. Newt didn’t respond, eyes trained on Minho.

Newt couldn’t quite place why he felt so at ease around these boys’, despite them being a threat to his safety.

“Show him the necklace, Thomas,” Minho said above him.

Thomas couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. Minho took a step toward him, as if he would rip off the necklace himself. Thomas turned his body away from Minho, cowering slightly. He didn’t want Minho touching it. He didn’t want Minho near him right now.

His thoughts were so jumbled together that he couldn’t even form a single clear one. He felt so lost, realizing by the moment that this was unlikely a hallucination. It was going on for way too long. The sweat that was forming on his back, clinging to his shirt, was proof that he had been under the sun for far too long.

“Okay, I won’t touch it. Just show him, Thomas.” Minho was beginning to sound desperate.

“I would much rather not have guns pointed at us,” Gally called out, sighing. “Please, Thomas. We finally found him, and you’re going to make him feel scared of us? Look at him. He’s terrified.”

“Go easier on him,” Frypan warned, snapping at Gally somewhere behind Thomas. “He’s in shock. He can’t control himself.”

“Shock?” Sonya asked, stepping back to stand next to her other two companions.

“We thought he was dead for months,” Minho explained, still looking down at Thomas. “I think we’re all shocked.”

“But you know it’s different with…” Frypan cut himself off, realizing that he had said too much. Every single person, besides Thomas of course, turned to look at him in curiousity. Fry felt his face heat up, which had nothing to do with the blazing hot sun.

Thomas finally, with insanely shaking hands, reached up to slowly pull off his necklace. It seemed to burn into his skin, as if it was alive. Newt slowly lowered his gun, hesitation on his face. His chocolate eyes stared at Thomas, who was no longer looking at him. Thomas stared down at the small black vial, wishing he didn’t have to part with it.

“He’ll give it back,” Minho assured him, shooting Newt a look that said _‘you better’_. “Just hand it to him.”

Thomas slowly raised his arm, eyes casting upwards to lock onto Newt’s. A shiver ran down both of their spines at the eye contact. Newt slowly walked around the mailbox, gun swaying across his body and completely forgotten. The familiar, long and lean fingers reached out to hesitantly grab the vial. He was careful not to touch Thomas’s skin.

Thomas realized how much blood was spilling from his hands only when he saw the vial being taken from his hands. Newt had to wipe some off on his coat before he pulled the vial down to his chest and stared down at it for a moment.

Newt was standing about three feet from Thomas, and Thomas _couldn’t_ _breathe_.

Long fingers popped open the top, and the note was now visible. He slowly pulled it out, slowly unfolded it. Harriet walked towards Newt then, curiosity seeming to get the best of her. Thomas, at the motion, snapped.

“Don’t fucking touch it,” Thomas snapped, the darker skinned girl jumping from the intensity. She glared at Thomas, but respected his demand. Harriet stopped in place, a few feet from Newt.

Newt unfurled the note completely, and slowly read it over. His face was expressionless, but his eyes prickled at the writing. _His_ writing.

**My Tommy,**

**This is the first note -**

He didn’t dare read any more. This obviously was a very personal letter. Newt looked down at Thomas. Thomas looked up at Newt.

Newt slowly nodded, as if an unspoken question had been asked and answered.

The warmth that filled him at the sight of Thomas, a man he couldn’t remember, was world shattering.

“It’s my handwriting,” Newt said, his voice so caught up in emotion that he hadn’t been sure that it could have even escaped through his throat. His eyes didn’t leave Thomas’s for a moment. “It’s mine.”

 

 

 

**The Glade**

7:48 AM

 

Thomas's eyes slowly opened, sunlight beating down on his face. His head was propped up on something very uncomfortable, and the pain in his head was unbearable. What the hell had happened? When his eyes slowly opened all of the way, he was met with the sight of the blazing hot sun, and the roof of the small slammer.

"Hey," A soft voice spoke, tearing him fully awake and out of his painful haze. "Are you ok?" Teresa's head slowly lowered into view, just above his. Truly uncomfortable with the closeness, ignoring his pain, he pulled his body up and twisted away from her. His head had been in her  _lap._ What had happened?!

“What the hell were you thinking?” Chuck, demanded, startling him. Thomas turned his head to look behind him and Teresa, spotting three boys sitting at the entrance of the slammer above them. Chuck, Minho, and a very pissed off looking Newt. All of them looked a bit ruffled and tired, and the sight made Thomas remember all of the previous night in an instant. 

_Fuck._

"What happened?" Thomas demanded, looking at each of their expressions. Sure, he had been an idiot and stung himself with a griever, but he had obtained the answers that he was looking for...despite them not being exactly what he had hoped for. Their facial expressions seemed disappointed and tired. Newt's eyes didn't leave his face, and he could practically feel his furious gaze on his skin. 

"Gally’s taking control," Newt spoke up, voice strained and sounding furious. His eyes never left Thomas. "Said we had a choice. Either join him, or get banished and sent out with you."

Thomas groaned as he slowly sat up all of the way, trying to ignore the awful feeling in his stomach from Newt being pissed at him. "And the others agreed to that?"

"Gally has everyone convinced that you’re the reason all this has happened," Teresa cut in, cutting off Newt as he opened his mouth again to speak. Thomas watched Newt's eyes flick from his face to glare at Teresa, snapping his mouth closed and pressing his lips into a tight line. He looked more upset at Teresa then he was at Thomas, at least.

Why was he upset at him?

Well, he was going to _officially_  hate him after what Thomas was about to say. His guilt was weighing heavy on his shoulders, and he knew that if he didn't speak up, it would come out eventually anyway. He looked up at his three friends, them all staring back in silence. They seemed to be waiting for something, and he was about to deliver. Thomas cleared his throat, rolled his shoulders, and sealed his fate.

"Well, he’s been right so far."

Everyone stayed silent for a moment, heads tilted in curiosity. Minho, who had been unusually quiet, furrowed his eyebrows at him.

"What are you talking about?" Minho asked, sounding lost. He looked even more frustrated than he had a moment before, and Thomas's fears were confirmed. He was about to lose all of his friends in this moment. He couldn't even bare to look at Newt. He kept his eyes clear from his best friend, and met Minho's gaze with shame. He took a deep breath.

"This place, it’s not what we thought it was," Thomas muttered lowly, eyes still on Minho and Chuck. Anywhere but Newt. "It’s not a prison, it’s a test."

All three boys stared intently at Thomas. Teresa was looking down at her lap. Thomas, although he didn't know for sure, could bet anything that she knew _exactly_ what he was talking about. A feeling of I trust and uneasiness washed over him.

"It all started when we were kids. They’d give us these challenges, they were experimenting on us. And then people started dissapearing. Every one, after the other like clock work."

"Sending them up into the maze," Newt muttered, breaking Thomas's trance. His voice wasn't frustrated anymore, but very thoughtful. Thomas still didn't dare look at his face, but he brought his eyes up to Newt's hand, which was resting itself on the bars of the slammer. 

"Yeah, but not all of us," Thomas said lowly, eyes casting downward once more.

"What do you mean?" Newt asked above him, voice soft. Thomas glanced up, but quickly averted his eyes to Chuck instead of daring to look at Newt. Chuck's face was impassive, which seemed to feel much worse to look at, so Thomas cast his eyes downward once more.

There was a long pause. 

"Guy’s, I’m one of them. The people who put you here, I worked with them," Thomas paused, guilt heavy in his heart. His eyes never left the dirt floor. "I watched you guys for years. The entire time you’ve been here, I… I was on the other side of it."

Thomas glanced at Teresa then. Mistrust was still running deeply inside of him, but he needed her to know if she didn't. And if she did? Too fucking bad. "So were you."

"What?" Teresa asked, tears flooding into her eyes. Thomas watched her, but felt no sympathy. 

"Teresa, we did this to them."

"No!" She was shaking her head, tears threatening to fall. "That cant be true."

"It is, I saw it," Thomas demanded, taking a risk and glancing up at the three boys. Minho and Chuck's expressions were both still unreadable... but Newt's? Newt looked upset. 

"Why would they send us up if we were with them?" Teresa asked, tearing Thomas's focus away from the boys. He turned to look at Teresa again.

"It doesn't matter."

"He’s right," Newt spoke up, startling Thomas. He didn't expect him to speak, and definitely didn't expect to hear the determination in his voice. "It doesn’t matter. Any of of it. Because the people who we before the maze, they don’t even exist anymore. These creaters took care of that."

Thomas couldn't keep his eyes off of Newt now, who seemed to be the one unable to meet his gaze while he spoke. He took a deep breath, and finally raised those chocolate eyes to meet Thomas's. "But what does matter, is who we are now. Who _you_ are now, Thomas. It matters what we do, right now. You went into the maze, and you found a way out."

"Yeah but if I hadn’t, Alby would still be alive," Thomas whispered, eyes locked onto Newt's. His voice was filled with sorrow, and he didn't notice Minho close his eyes briefly in his own sorrow. 

Newt stared at him for a long moment. He seemed to consider what Thomas said for a moment before speaking up again. "Maybe." Another silence. "But I know that if he were here, he would be telling you the exact same thing. We’re all proud of you, Thomas. We’re all so thankful that you’re in our lives. But you need to pick your ass up and finished what you fucking started. We’re all here for you. It’s your time to shine, Thomas, because if we do nothing, that means Alby died for nothing and I can’t have that."

Thomas slowly nodded, eyes still locked onto the ones gazing down at him. Newt's face looked determined and unbreakable, seeming to know exactly what he wanted. He didn't seem very upset anymore.

"Ok," Thomas breathed, nodding once more. "Ok, but we need to get through Gally first."

All three boys' nodded, and slowly stood. Thomas's heart sank at the fact that none of them spoke up again after him, and he watched them walk slowly away from them. He was left alone with Teresa, who he could feel staring at him. He turned his back toward her, unable to make sense of his own thoughts. 

Why did her tears seem so fake? Why did she seem as if this was no surprise to her at all?

Teresa called out to him, but he ignored her. 

After a few minutes, footsteps began approaching the slammer once more. Thomas glanced up, sunlight hitting his face and partially blocking his vision. There stood Newt, two plates of food in his hand. He was staring down at Thomas, an uneasy expression on his face. He slowly crouched down, sitting cross legged at the edge of the slammer. He was sitting as far away from Teresa as possible, and didn't look at her once. He did, however, still reach out and place one of the plates in front of the slammer bars near her. She thanked him as she reached out and took a piece of bread off of her plate, but he ignored her.

"Thought you might want to eat something," Newt said, voice sounding hesitant. Instead of laying the plate on the grass in front of him like he had with Teresa, he folded the plate in half and stuffed it through the bars. Thomas gratefully took it, ignoring the leap in his heart that he felt at the contact of his fingers against Newt's soft skin. The heat that passed through his body at the contact was intense. Newt continued to stare at his face, almost as if he was fixated on it.

"Thank you," Thomas whispered, dropping his gaze to the plate. It was bread and meat, and it looked simple but delicious. He stared at it for a moment, not feeling the desire to eat. His stomach was swirling with guilt and sadness. How could he eat when he had probably lost all of his friends? Why was Newt even here?

"I'm fucking pissed at you, you know," Newt said, so nonchalantly that Thomas's head snapped up in surprise. Newt's facial expression had quickly turned sour. Even though it was sour, there was some other expression that Thomas couldn't place.

"Newt-"

"Don't  _Newt_ me, Thomas. I can't believe you're so goddamn _stupid,"_ Newt snapped, rage filling his eyes. Thomas's mouth fell open in shock, his chest feeling tight. 

"Wha-"

"I was scared you know, when you went into that damn maze. And then you were an idiot with the bloody griever? I was so fucking mad at you. I was so fucking  _mad_ at you, and worried sick. I can't believe you stabbed yourself in your bloody fucking thigh."

Thomas's stomach clenched, and he could hear his heartbeat in his ears. Newt was mad at him for  _scaring_ him. 

He had been _"worried sick"_ about him.

Newt had looked away then, slightly pouting and looking like a small child. Thomas couldn't help but break a small, relieved smile. Newt was  _worried about him._ Not mad at him for anything that he had just said to them. He was worried about him. That, Thomas could handle.

Newt's right hand was resting on the grass near the slammer bars, clenched in a fist. Thomas could see it slightly shaking. He glanced up, but Newt's head was still turned away from him, looking out into the Glade and at the rubble around them. Without thinking, with his free hand, Thomas slowly reached out between the bars and grabbed hold of Newt's hand.

Newt didn't look back at Thomas. He didn't relax, though, either. In fact, his whole body seemed to tense up and freeze. Thomas didn't remove his hand, though. He stared at their hands.

The warmth that spread through Thomas's body at the contact was  _mesmerizing._ It instantly pushed all of his fears and worries to the back of his mind. All of the awful thoughts about WCKD, about The Maze...it was all gone, with the simple touch of his best friend.

Newt's hand was surprisingly soft. It was a beautiful hand, really, veins spreading from it and up into his forearm. His skin was a slight few shades lighter than Thomas's, and the contrast was somewhat beautiful. He gently stroked a thumb across Newt's knuckles. The gesture didn't seem to make Newt less upset at all. On the contrary, he seemed to be more tense than before.

Newt slowly moved his head then, looking down at Thomas below him. His face was a mixture between surprised, and hesitant. When their eyes met, a feeling passed through Thomas that he couldn't quite describe. Those chocolate eyes put him into a sort of trance, as if this boy could tell him to do anything and he  _would,_ without question.

The clenched fist under his hand slowly released its grip on itself. While Newt still stared deeply into his eyes, expression cautious but determined now, the hand slowly turned over, and their fingers slid around each others. Fingers now lightly interlocked, Newt slowly began to breathe once more. His guarded expression dropped, another emotion taking over that Thomas couldn't figure out.

"I'm sorry," Thomas muttered, unable to help himself from lightly squeezing the blondes warm hand as he spoke. "I didn't mean to worry you. Or make you mad. I'm sorry."

Newt's eyes softened. He slowly opened his mouth to speak, when a sharp inhale next to them sounded loudly in the silence.

Both boys jumped, their hands almost separating. Newt and Thomas both glanced toward the noise, and were both shocked to find Teresa still sitting there next to them. They had both completely forgotten that she had existed in this moment. She was staring at them with pure shock on her face. Sadly, Newt snatched his hand away from Thomas's and stood abruptly. 

"Can you maybe look away for a moment? Or some bloody shit. This doesn’t concern you," Newt snapped, turning on his heel and walking swiftly away from the slammer. 

Thomas watched him go, shocked. Thomas had never seen Newt upset at anyone. Not even Gally, and he was causing so many issues in this moment. 

And Newt seemed to _really hate_ Teresa.  

 

 

The Note.

 

 **My Tommy,**  

**This is the first letter I can remember writing. Obviously, I don't know if I wrote any before the Maze. But, even if it's not my first, it's likely to be my last.**

**I want you to know that I'm not scared. Well, not of dying, anyway. It's more of the fact that I’m forgetting. It's losing myself to this virus, that's what scares me. And I am. I am forgetting. But I could never want to.**

**I’m also scared of losing you. I don’t know what happens after this, I don’t know what I’m going to have to face after this. All I know is, if it’s without you, it’s not a challenge that I would like to battle.**

**Every night, so I don’t forget, I've been saying their names out loud. Alby, Winston, Chuck. And I repeat them over and over like a prayer and it all comes flooding back. I can’t forget them.**

**I know that I’ll see them wherever I go. I can’t wait for them to tell me how proud of you they are. I can’t wait for us to all sit around and be happy, and talk about you. Talk about the good memories we had with you.**

**We’ll talk about how you’re going to save the world.**

**I want to remember the little things, like when the sun used to hit the Glade at that perfect moment right before it slipped beneath the walls.** ****  
**  
****I remember the taste of Frypan's stew. I never thought I'd miss that stuff so much. Please always give your compliments to the chef for me. He loves that.**

**I remember the moments between Gally and I, between Minho and I. I want to take those with me wherever I go. I know that you and Gally don’t get on much, but you all have been the most important things in my life.**

**And I want to remember you. I will always remember you. **

**I remember the first time you came up in the box, how scared you were. I remember giving you Gally’s brew and having you almost die from choking on it. You were so scared then, too. You would never admit it, of course.**

**No matter how bloody pissed I was at you for doing it, from that moment you ran into the Maze, I knew I would follow you anywhere. And I have. I would follow you to the ends of the earth without you asking. We all have.** **  
** ****

**If I could do it all over again, I would. And I wouldn't change a thing. Well, maybe a few things. I hope you know what things I’m talking about. I hope I haven’t been out of my bloody mind and imagining everything.**

**My hope for you is when you're looking back, years from now, you'll be able to remember what we had. More importantly, when you look back, I hope you’ll remember who** **you are. A brave, strong, amazing person.**

**A leader.**

**I hope you’ll never regret anything that you’ve ever done because the future is in your hands now, Tommy. And I know you'll find a way to do what's right. You always have. I wouldn’t have ever wanted anyone else by my side. By everyone’s side, leading us like no one else could have.**

**Take care of everyone for me. And take care of yourself. You deserve to be happy. You're the most wonderful person, and you deserve all the happiness in this life and the next.**

**I hope to see you in one of those.**

**Thank you. Thank you for being you. Thank you for being everything that made the world a better place.**

**When I jumped off that wall, I never knew that I could ever want to live again. With you, that want was easy. I was happy, even. I never knew I could be that.**

**I hope to see you again in another lifetime. Maybe we will be free of this cruel world. Maybe we could start over.**

**Maybe we could have been different.**

**It’s always been you, Tommy.**

 

 **Goodbye, my Tommy.** **  
** **Newt.**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, come scream at me in the comments :) <3 I deserve it, I’m so so sorry for the cliffhangers! 
> 
>  
> 
> This fic’s name was based off of “Look After You” by The Fray.  
> I think this song is completely and utterly Newtmas, and i really recommend giving it a listen. 
> 
> “Will you, won’t you, be the one I always know?  
> When I’m losing my control, the city spins around.  
> You’re the only one who knows, you slow it down.”
> 
> “You’ve begun to feel like home”
> 
> I truly believe that that’s the dynamic between the two boys. It’s so important to me to know that a love like theirs exists in some universe. So pure and supporting and UGH. 
> 
> Thank you for all being so patient! I hope this makes up for it! I feel so bad that updates are so slow. Trying my best with my whole entire days being busy now :(
> 
> I hope you all have had an amazing week! I missed you all. I truly hope everything has been going great this week. 
> 
> Scream at me in the comments! :) or just tell me about your day. I love talking to all of you. 
> 
> All my love to every single one of you,  
> Amy xxxxxxxxx


	8. are you smiling?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's a short and crappy chapter for you!  
> i've been very sick for the past week so I'm surprised this came out at all lol.
> 
> \- i listened to these songs on repeat while writing this chapter, if you'd like to get the feel for it.
> 
> Vancouver Sleep Clinic - Killing Me To Love You  
> Mansionair - Easier
> 
>  
> 
> -

 

**PRESENT DAY**

11:37 AM

 

“Until we can figure out everything, let’s take them as hostages,” Harriet said, nodding at her two friends. She looked unsure of what to do, although she was trying very hard to hide that fact. Her cheeks were red and her eyes kept sweeping over each boy. “We can’t be too sure.”

Newt, still clutching the note in his hands, looked outraged. “But they’re obviously -”

“They left you to die, Newt. How many months have you been with us? They didn’t look for you once.”

Thomas, who was lost in his thoughts, slowly came to his senses at that statement. Left him to die? You’ve got to be kidding me. His face became red and flushed - although it had nothing to do with the scorching heat beating down around them. Thomas took a deep, even breath.

“You have no idea what happened that night,” Thomas said lowly, standing up. The sudden movement of the boy who had been on his knees the entire time startled everyone, Newt and Minho taking a god step back from him as he did so. Thomas fixed his intense gaze upon Harriet, who suddenly looked a lot less confident. The gun twitched in her hands - obviously wanting to bring it back up and point it right at his chest again. “Don’t speak about shit that you don’t know.”

Harriet gave a curt nod, but a sour expression washed over her face. She turned to look at Sonya, hands still gripping her gun tightly. “Do you still have those cuffs in your backpack?”

 _“Handcuffs?”_ Minho asked in disbelief. His face became flushed quickly like Thomas’s, looking appalled. “We aren’t traitors of war or some shit!”

Minho spoke at at the exact same time that Newt did. “I don’t think that’s necessary, Harriet. They’re-”

“Even if you do know them,” Harriet cut off, sending a hostile glance at Newt. “I don’t. _We_ don’t. We can’t trust them...at least not yet.”

The last part was clearly thrown in purely for Newt’s sanity, because the way that she was watching them definitely didn’t hint at any sort of trustworthiness. It was clear that the only way that they would ever trust them is if Newt remembered.

Which obviously wasn’t happening.

Thomas watched Newt roll up the note slowly and carefully, as if it wasn’t his property. As if he wasn’t the one who wrote it. He slowly slid the note back into the vial, and closed the top. He stared down at it as if he could find answers if he looked hard enough. His messy blonde hair fell down and slightly into his face, it much longer than Thomas remembered it ever being. He would need to cut it again soon.

Sonya pulled off a dirty, dark green backpack that Thomas hadn’t even noticed. She let her gun sling around her body as she unzipped the bag and pulled out a few handcuffs. All of the boys watched her gloomily - especially Minho and Gally. Minho looked absolutely _pissed._

There was no way in hell that Thomas would ever wear handcuffs and be someone’s damn _hostage…_ unless it was for Newt. He knew, from the rest of the boys’ expressions, that it was the same for them.

“You just carry those around with you?” Gally demanded, raising his eyebrows in mock interest. His nose was scrunched in disgust. Sonya walked up to Gally first, as if his statement was handcuff worthy.

“You have no idea how many bad people we have run across,” Sonya explained, waiting for Gally to pull his wrists together at his waist. As soon he did, Sonya slung the handcuffs around his wrists and locked them. She didn’t see the eye roll, but everyone else sure did. Harriet even squinted her eyes at him.

Newt, who was still glancing at Thomas every few seconds, looked very lost. His eyebrows seemed to be permanently furrowed, concentration etched onto every inch on the surface of his face. It was obvious that there were so many things going on in his head - obvious that his thoughts wouldn’t stop.

Thomas’s wouldn’t stop either. The man that he thought he had lost forever was _here._ He was right in front of him. But...Thomas knew that it wasn’t right.

Even though he was standing right in front of him, he wasn’t _Thomas’s_ Newt.

He never would be again.

This Newt wasn’t Thomas’s Newt. This Newt didn’t know who he was, didn’t remember all of their memories, didn’t feel the bond between them as Thomas did. Finding Newt right now was more...heartbreaking than anything before. Selfishly heartbreaking. Thomas, of course, was so happy and grateful that Newt was alive. He deserved to be alive, well and happy. But, him not having his memories, was a different person. In more ways than one, Thomas’s Newt really _was_ dead.

Thomas, selfishly, felt a wall form around his already broken heart. The pain that was left over from Newt dying unfairly was gone. The only pain that was left was the selfish kind. The kind where Thomas wouldn’t be able to ever get his Newt back, even though he was standing right in front of him.

Those confused, chocolate eyes seemed to know what turmoil he was going through. They kept locked onto his for a few moments, confusion turning to worry. He seemed to sense that Thomas wasn’t doing too well, even from just a simple look between the two.

Like old times.

Thomas just wanted to have the note back around his neck.

“How long do we have to stay in these? Frypan asked, sighing loudly as Sonya approached him next. His voice pulled Thomas’s concentration away from Newt. He turned just in time to watch Fry pull his wrists together in front of him as well, Sonya latching on the handcuffs. Gally stood next to him, looking thoroughly annoyed.

“However long we decide,” Sonya responded, determination in her voice. She was as nervous as Harriet was about them, Thomas could tell that much. Her hands shook as she finished locking the cuffs onto Frypan. She slowly turned toward Thomas then, uneasiness deepening in her features. She looked _terrified_ of Thomas.

Thomas didn’t understand where the fear came from, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to ask.

“Where are you taking us?” Thomas asked, pulling his wrists together in front of his waist as Sonya hesitantly approached. He heard Newt suck in a deep, sharp breath behind him at the sound of his voice. Thomas realized that this was the first sentence that he spoke without hostility or sadness. His voice sounded weird to his own ears.

“Well, you already know our hideout near the city.” Harriet’s voice was sour and judging. Oh, she was annoyed that they were following them, alright. Thomas’s didn’t even bother to look up at her as Sonya slid the cold metal onto his wrists. “That’s the only one we can take you to, unless we want to give away our whole damn operation.”

“What about your other two friends?” Minho asked somewhere behind Thomas. “Where are they?”

That was the wrong question to ask. Sonya stopped her motions at Thomas’s wrists, the remaining cuff about to be pulled down and locked. Newt and Harriet remained quiet for a moment. Thomas kept his eyes cast downward at his wrists.

“You aren’t going to be told anything,” Sonya said roughly after a few moments of hesitation. She harshly snapped the cuff closed, way too tightly on Thomas’s wrist. Thomas gasped, the pain startling him. She moved away from him before he could let her know, and she moved past him to Minho. Thomas heard Harriet laugh, the sound playful despite the situation.

“Oh, poor Sonya. Worried about your little boyfriend?”

Sonya didn’t say a word, and no one else laughed. Thomas glanced up at Harriet, whose expression went from teasing to serious once more. She had seemed to completely forget the situation for a split second, her playfulness with her friends making a small appearance. Thomas heard the cuffs click behind him, the last “threat” being contained.

Thomas didn’t see Newt’s eyes still trained on his face.

“Okay, I’ll get these two,” Harriet said, walking confidently over to Gally and Fry. She nodded toward Thomas and Minho, eyes sparkling in the sunlight. “Newt, take them. Sonya, keep your gun ready.”

Harriet began walking back toward the outskirts of the town. Gally and Frypan glanced at each other before grudgingly following her, not knowing what else to do. They were their prisoners.

“If any of you move more than we instruct you to do so, we will shoot all of you,” Harriet said, looking back at them with a sweet, fake smile. Thomas and Minho slowly began walking after them, following the other boys’ lead. Gally glanced back at Minho and Thomas, eyebrows raised.

“Look forward,” Sonya demanded sharply behind Thomas, causing him to jump from the sudden noise. He felt a hard, sharp object press firmly between his shoulder blades.

“Sonya, fucking stop,” Newt snapped behind them. Thomas felt the gun remove itself from his back sharply, as if Newt had snatched it away. “Back off, I’ll walk with them.”

Sonya didn’t respond - didn’t say a word. She must have respected her friends wishes, though, because there was a lot of shuffling in the dirt behind them. As they walked, Thomas heard a deep, familiar sigh behind them.

“I’m so sorry,” Newt muttered lowly behind them, sounding guilty. “Harriet’s leader, so what she says goes.”

Minho quickly glanced back between him and Thomas to look at Newt. He smiled sadly before turning to look forward once more. “Doesn’t matter. At least we get to see you.”

“Can I have my note back now?” Thomas asked, unable to hold back the question any longer. Without hesitation, without asking his “leader”, Newt reached out and dropped it around Thomas’s neck. From the simple action, Thomas felt Newt’s hand brush against his ear. The warmth spreading through Thomas’s body at the sensation shocked him. Even if this wasn’t _his_ Newt, that feeling would never go away, would it?

How fucking sad.

Although the vial was now where it belonged, Thomas’s heart ached dramatically. This was the last piece of _his_ Newt that he had. He was selfishly still sad, and he knew it. He couldn’t help it, though.

They walked for about an hour, through the winding city streets and the through alleys behind ruined and abandoned stores. Minho and Thomas kept glancing at each other, unknowing what to do. They had been prisoners in Janson’s facility, and even with Jorge and Brenda when they had first met, but it was never like this. They had so much to lose, like all of the rest of the times, but also now so much to _gain._

Although Newt was just a shell of his former self, his light breathing behind them was messing with Thomas’s head. He remembered all of the times that Newt had fallen asleep before him in The Scorch - how he could always hear him breathing right next to him in the darkness. He remembered all the times that they had been running for their lives, and he heard the gasps of the boy next to him. He remembered when Newt was dying, and his breathing was slower and becoming raspy. Through all of these, for some reason, Thomas remembered a few times in The Scorch, when Newt thought Thomas was asleep...his breathing had been _much_ different in those cases.

If the blonde had been walking in front of them, Thomas would have been transfixed by the sight of him. Even if he wasn’t the same Newt, he definitely _looked_ the same.

It was probably a better thing that Thomas could only hear his breathing behind him.

As soon as they reached the outskirts of the city, the sun was brutal. As they reached the street that their hideout was on, Thomas could see sweat drenching the backs of the three in front of him. Gally was sweating the most, and kept groaning and complaining as they walked.

“This damn scorch,” Gally muttered in front of them, hatred in every word. “I’ve had enough of it to last so many lifetimes.”

“I can’t even wipe my sweat,” Minho piped in next to Thomas. He sarcastically laughed. “It’s dripping down my face like I jumped into a fucking pool.”

Minho’s dark green shirt was soaked with sweat, and Thomas almost laughed at the sweat on his face. Minho wasn’t kidding. He had drops sliding down his face - rolling all the way down his neck. Minho wiped his face with his cuffed hands pathetically, the action practically useless.

“Well, we’re here. As you know already,” Sonya muttered bitterly behind them. “Why were you following us anyway?”

“A guard of ours saw your group. Said they saw someone that looked like New-”

“Your guard?” Harriet demanded, whipping around quickly. Frypan almost walked right into her from the sudden stop. He quickly backpedaled away at her furious gaze.

Everyone seemed to freeze in place simultaneously.

“Well...we are part of a Safe Haven,” Minho spoke up, realizing how it must have sounded to say ‘guard’. Thomas watched him as he carefully chose his next words. “The only reason we left was to try and find Newt.”

“So there will be people looking for you,” Newt muttered behind them, sounding nervous. “You’re not alone.”

“We aren’t a big part of it,” Frypan added quickly. “They’ll look for us if we are gone too long, but not with weapons. They don’t fight people, just the infected. We are a Safe Haven, not an army.”

Harriet’s furious gaze, staring Frypan down, caused him to take one more step backward.

“You all knew Newt?” Sonya asked curiously behind them. “Did they all know Newt?”

“We can tell you the full story if we get out of this fucking heat,” Gally snapped, groaning loudly once more. He seemed to be immune to Harriet’s intense glare. “Come on, people, let’s get inside already.”

Frypan, still looking uneasy, began following Harriet as she spun on her heal and stalked up to the gate. Gally quickly scurried after her, intent on getting inside and into the shade.

Thomas, who hadn’t seen Newt in around an hour, had been lost in his thoughts. It didn’t seem real that he found his old friend. It didn’t seem real that this was happening at all. He was glad that he hadn’t looked back at him for the full hour, or else he wouldn’t have been able to capture any coherent thought.

The wall around his heart, and the wall that he felt between him and the new Newt standing behind him, was real and very much alive. Even if Newt looked the exact same, smelled the exact same, spoke the exact same...he wasn’t _Newt._

Thomas would rather Newt be alive than remember him, he knew that. It didn’t stop him from being heartbroken, though.

The gate suddenly opened in front of them, even before Harriet reached it. The person that opened it was hidden from Thomas’s view by Harriet, and he was unable to see who it was. There was a loud gasp as the person who opened the gate saw the group. Thomas wasn’t surprised by the gasp, as he would be shocked to see four new people with his friends as well. What did shock him, though, was the way Gally and Frypan both halted in their tracks.

“No fucking _way,”_ Gally said in front of them, sounding shocked. “You bitch.”

Frypan turned to look at Thomas and Minho, shock and terror on his face. Gally’s back remained facing toward them, but Thomas could see how rigid in fear that it was.

Harriet moved to look at Gally then, uncovering who was standing at the gate.

And there, in front of them, stood the woman that Thomas never thought he’d ever see again. If it weren’t for the handcuffs, he would have wrapped his hands around her throat.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Janson’s Facility**

8:34 AM

 

“You need to eat.”

The familiar voice first thing in the morning made Thomas snap out of his dreams and back to reality. From the moment he woke up, his brain automatically went back to questioning whether this place was even a good idea or not. His thoughts come flooding back like a tidal wave, entering every corner of his mind and refusing to let go. More and more worries and concerns kept crashing in, as if he was lost at sea.

He wished that he hadn’t woken up.

Newt, the owner of the familiar voice, sighed. Thomas opened his eyes slowly, the bright lights in the room almost blinding him. As his eyes slowly opened, the sight of Newt almost took his breath away. He looked half asleep himself, dressed in his oversized pajamas, and his hair a proper mess. Newt ran a hand through his hair as if he read Thomas’s thoughts, eyes watching him cautiously.

Thomas was curled up on his side, his knees pulled up to his chest. A blanket was draped over Thomas, warm and insanely soft. He hadn’t had it in his bed when he fell asleep, he knew that much. He jokingly thought about Janson coming in and throwing it over him as he slept. The thought was almost comical.

The sight of Newt standing over him suddenly seemed to be a bit too much. The look of concern on his face was one that Thomas didn’t deserve. He cast his eyes down Newt’s body, catching sight of black sweatpants, before closing them all together. He thought briefly of how soft Newt looked with the oversized clothes, and wondered how soft his skin would be if he lay next to him on his bed.

Newt sighed once more, and Thomas heard his knees crack as he squatted next to Thomas’s bed. Thomas opened one squinted eye and peeked at the blonde, whose face was now dangerously close to his. The concern up close was actually much worse to look at. Thomas couldn't understand why the sight of Newt’s slightly pouted lips made him want to grab ahold of his oversized shirt and pull him closer.

Those big brown eyes stared at Thomas cautiously.

“I know you haven’t been eating.”

“I have,” Thomas protested, his voice rough and heavy from the night. Newt bit his lips at the noise, his pupils suddenly appearing to be much bigger. Thomas chalked it up to his imagination. “I’ve been eating.”

Newt sighed for the third time.

“Thomas, I’m…” He took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a brief moment, and hesitated. Newt’s eyes slowly opened once more, and hesitantly looked deeply into Thomas’s. “We’re all worried about you. You can’t keep that up. I’m taking you to eat whether you like it or not.”

Thomas sighed himself then. He rolled over onto his back, looking intently up at Newt’s bunk bed above his. He pretended to be very interested in the wooden planks holding it up. “I’m fine. I swear to you.”

Both of them knew that Thomas couldn’t lie to Newt.

“You don’t sleep well, you don’t eat, you don’t do...much of anything. I’m - well...I’m worried. About you.”

“So that’s why you got me a nice blanket?” Thomas asked teasingly, trying to lighten the mood.

Thomas didn’t see the flush that crept across Newt’s face, too busy pretending to examine the wooden beams. He even reached up an arm and began to trace his finger across a pattern in the wood.

“You have to sleep, mate. It’s as important as eating.” Newt said to him, concern still sounding in his voice.

Thomas realized that he had, in fact, not sleep well at all. The last time he had slept well was when he was with Newt, when he had spent the night in his bed. His arm slowly dropped from the wood above him, and he turned his head to glance over at the blonde.

Those dark brown eyes, that seemed to have such an intense effect on him, left him speechless once more.

Thomas decided that no matter what, he was going to have Newt in his bed again that night.

“I’ll sleep better tonight. I promise.”

 

-

 

It seemed to be common knowledge that Newt was trying to get Thomas to eat, because when he walked up to the rest of the boys at their table, they all glanced at him hesitantly. It was as if they had sent Newt to come and sort it all out. When Thomas was approaching, he assumed Newt nodded behind his back, and the rest of the boys quickly broke out into relieved smiles.

“Yeah, yeah,” Thomas muttered teasingly, plopping down in a seat next to Frypan. Newt slid onto the bench seat next to him, a lazy and sloppy smile lighting up his face. He turned to look at Thomas as if he had made his day.

“Yes, he’s going to eat. Isn’t that right, Thomas?” Newt asked, reaching over and slapping Thomas’s thigh.

Thomas, who had reached for a fork, dropped it with a loud clatter.

 

-

 

Thomas waited until everyone was asleep before he made his move. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed to be seen crawling into Newt’s bed - he truly couldn’t care less what others thought of him. Him waiting mostly stemmed from the fact that he would lose his cool if Newt was fully awake when he forced his way into his bed. If Newt seemed fully aware of what Thomas was attempting to do, he would be insanely embarrassed.

Thomas threw his legs over the side of his bed, quickly standing up and turning to face the small ladder that led up to Newt’s bed. Thomas could see a bit of Newt’s hair in the darkness, but nothing else. The realization at what he was doing seemed to hit him head on, leaving him breathless. Was he really about to do this? He was most definitely breaking some sort of boundary of friendship here. No one else did anything like this here. Thomas hadn't even noticed anyone doing this in The Glade, a place where all of those boys were much closer to one another.

He wasn't even sure that he should be doing this after the reaction his body had to Newt's touch at breakfast. The last time Newt slept in his bed, too, he had an issue in his pants when he had woken to see his best friend changing. 

Fuck it.

Thomas slowly placed a fluffy socked foot onto the small ladder, grabbed hold of the top bunk, and pulled himself up.

Newt was laying on his side like always, clinging onto his pillow in his sleep. His hair was messy and everywhere, almost as if a sudden gust of wind had breezed through the small room. His face was partially hidden from the pillow, only one side visible. His face was smashing into the pillow, almost looking as if he would suffocate from the fabric pressed into his face. A blanket was tucked tightly around him, making Newt resemble a burrito. The sight of him so innocent and pure made Thomas's heart lurch. He suddenly hated everything that this harsh world had in store for them after this. He wished that Newt, that  _all_ of his friends, could sleep so easily like this every night. 

Without thinking it through, Thomas hoisted himself up into Newt's bed with a heavy heart. He was now kneeling on the small bed, right at Newt’s head. It was always comical how deep of a sleeper that this boy was. Thomas reached out hesitantly, pushing at what he assumed was Newt's arm. All he could see was a blob under the big, tightly tucked blanket. When he received no response, he repeated the action once more, but harder.

“Scoot over.”

“Thomas?” Newt asked as he raised his head, his voice deep from sleep. Thomas’s body shuttered, heat pooling into every inch of it - even down to his damn _toes_. He ignored the way his back squirmed and his chest tightened as pushed Newt gently over the boys blanket once more.

“Last time I slept well was with you, so you’re going to have to let me stay," Thomas whispered, eyes desperately trying to see Newt's in the darkness. "Sorry. I don’t make the rules.”

Thomas could hear a lazy smile in Newt’s voice, although he was still unable to see his face through the darkness. “Alright, then. I guess I can try to help.”

Newt scooted over a bit towards the wall, making room for Thomas. He let go of the pillow and straightened it, allowing Thomas access to it as well. Newt lifted the blanket that he was laying under, signaling that Thomas should join him. The action was so simple and kind, but it made Thomas's ears flush red.

With shaking hands, Thomas carefully slipped his legs under the blanket. Although he was much more nervous than he should be, he couldn’t help but notice how warm the place that Newt had been sleeping on was. It was a scorching heat, almost overwhelming him, and Thomas loved every moment of it. As he stretched himself out where Newt had been a moment previously, Newt let go of the blanket so it was now draped over both of them. Thomas gently rested his head on the pillow that Newt had been holding only a minute ago.

“Thank you,” Thomas said stupidly in the darkness. He turned his head to where he knew Newt’s head was, but he couldn’t see his expression in the darkness. He could feel Newt’s eyes on him, though, only about two feet from his own. Newt was still on his side, Thomas on his back, and they lay with less than a foot separating them.

The scent of vanilla that followed Newt everywhere was muted, despite being so close. Thomas barely got a whiff of it. 

“Any time,” Newt muttered softly, adjusting his arm under his head. Thomas wished he could know what the boy was thinking in this moment. A comfortable silence stretched out, their even breathing the only thing disturbing it. After a few moments, still facing Newt, Thomas turned onto his side.

"Are you less worried about me now?" Thomas whispered, unable to help himself. He continued to stare at the shape of Newt's head in the darkness. "I ate a lot today, and now I'm going to sleep well."

"Thank you," Newt muttered softly. Even though Thomas couldn't see him, he knew the look that Newt had on his face. He  _knew_ it was the look that only Newt seemed to give him. He could feel it, even through the darkness of the room. 

The thought made goosebumps erupt up and down his arms. 

"You know I'll always worry, though, Thomas." There was a silence. Then, a deep sigh. "You know that already, though. I'll always worry about you."

"I'll always worry about you too," Thomas muttered, the meaning behind Newt's words making his chest ache. He was becoming very sleepy from the closeness of the blonde and the warm blanket, but he wanted Newt to know that he felt the same.

"Do you?" Newt asked, the tiredness in his voice seeming to be paired with something else entirely now. "It seems like you're always a bit too busy to worry about anyone."

Thomas didn't have any words for that. Did Newt really think that way? Could he really think that Thomas was too busy to care about him?

"I could never be too busy," Thomas muttered, a yawn threatening to overtake him. He could still feel those chocolate eyes staring at him. He wished more than anything that he could see them. 

There was a few moments of silence. Thomas couldn't seem to take his eyes away from the place that he knew Newt's eyes were. 

“Are you smiling?” Newt suddenly asked, voice quiet and only heard between them. Since his head was so close, Thomas could feel the light breeze of his breath.

Thomas was about to deny it, but realized that Newt was completely right. In the darkness, he was smiling. He hadn’t even noticed when it had taken over his face, but there it was. A soft, small smile.

“No,” Thomas denied anyway, although his voice betrayed him. Newt let out a small breath of laughter.

“I could feel it,” Newt muttered, shifting under the blanket that was still draped over the both of them. Before Thomas could comprehend what was happening, a soft touch bumped into his cheek. Thomas sucked in a deep breath, not expecting the touch. It was Newt's fingertips. A burning sensation, one that left his whole being an absolute mess, began to spread like wildfire from the small contact. The blonde slowly traced his fingertips downward, falling down to gently trace the hollow between the side of Thomas's mouth and his cheek. The fire seemed to spread wildly, igniting deep into his soul.

“See?” Newt whispered, his voice sounding slightly uneasy. "You're smiling."

Without warning, Newt dropped his arm. He swiftly pulled away, and rolled onto his back. The sudden movement from him made Thomas feel as if he had electrocuted him. It all happened too quickly for Thomas's liking. The combination of exhaustion from not sleeping well, and Newt's body heat and gentle touch was enough to already have him start to drift off to sleep. His brain was becoming hazy already, and he couldn't help but yawn.

They lay in silence for a few minutes, Thomas's breathing evening out. Although he could still feel Newt's body heat, Thomas was disappointed. He was half asleep and craving the contact that they had shared last time. As if Newt could hear his thoughts, which Thomas could almost guarantee that he could, Newt spoke up next to him.

“You can put your head on me again, you know,” Newt muttered in the dark. He sounded more than half asleep, and his deep voice caused Thomas to clench every muscle in his body.

Thomas did just that. Without hesitation.

He rolled onto his side, and curled right up against Newt's side. It was almost as if the movement was familiar to him - the way he perfectly fit into him. His forehead pressed against Newt's forearm, and he laced an arm around it once more. He now had his arm wrapped tightly around Newt's right arm, and huddled gently into it. Thomas's legs bent just enough to press into Newt's thigh, the added sensation very welcome.

The scent of vanilla became stronger, and threatened to overtake him and cause him to become entirely undone.

Just as he was falling asleep, Thomas realized that he very much wanted to ask Newt the same thing. He did it without words, though, unraveling his arm from Newt's, and slowly raising his hands to his face. Thomas felt Newt's chest heave as his fingertips gently bumped into Newt's cheek. The fire in the pit of his stomach burst into flames once more as he gently traced his fingers upward, and felt the same dip between the side of Newt's mouth and his cheek.

Newt was smiling, too.

Newt let out a small, breathless laugh. The motion caused Thomas's hand to gently lower, and a fingertip briefly touched Newt's bottom lip. Thomas slowly retracted his hand, but sleep was becoming too powerful for him to resist. Without him realizing, Thomas's hand didn't return back to wrap back around Newt's arm. Instead, it lay in the middle of Newt's chest. 

In the next instant, he fell asleep like that. Curled up on Newt's side, with his hand on the blondes chest. 

Newt was the one who had trouble falling asleep that night.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS UNEDITED IM SORRY!  
> I'm so sorry for how awful this chapter was. School, work, and my sickness are killing me!  
> A lot of personal things have been going on as well, and you know that ya girl isn't too great at handling stress.
> 
> I'm so sorry for the delay! I hope to make it up to everyone with the next chapter.... it will be a fun one ... :')  
> A hint - go back and read about Thomas thinking about Newt's breathing.
> 
> I hope everyone is doing well! I missed you all so so so much. <3 
> 
> All my (sickness ridden) love,  
> Amy xxx


	9. vanilla

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cried a lot while re reading the "sad" part, because of the damn song Aquilo - Silhouette.  
> Feel free to listen and read if you feel like crying a river.
> 
> "As if you don't remember  
> As if you can forget  
> It's only been a moment  
> It's only been a lifetime  
> But tonight you're a stranger  
> Some silhouette"
> 
> As in, Newt being a shell of his former self?  
> stfu don't touch me I'm -

**Present Day**

2:46 PM

 

 

Thomas started walking forward.

The look on his face seemed to make Harriet realize that this wasn't a pleasant reunion. She quickly grabbed her gun, jerking it upward to point it at Thomas once more. There was fear on her face for her friend, and she looked almost as lost as Newt had earlier. 

Minho had stepped in front of Thomas at the same time that a hand grabbed the back of Thomas's shirt, holding him back from progressing any further. The slight smell of vanilla reached Thomas's nose, halting him in his tracks. The hand on his shirt dropped quickly for just a moment, only to move to the top of his arm, where it wrapped around his bicep to hold him in place. Although his eyes were still locked on the girls from over Minho's shoulder, the familiar touch of Newt seemed to fry his brain. 

Thomas took a deep breath, his lungs seeming to fill properly for the first time since he had lost Newt. He slowly turned his head to look behind him, desperate to see the blonde's face. He was a lot closer than Thomas had expected, his face less than a foot away. Newt's expression had been determined, but seemed to slip when Thomas's gaze locked onto his. His expression, now, looked understanding. As if he could tell the crisis that was going on in Thomas's head. There was also a bit of the soft look that only Newt used to give him. The look when Newt told him to get some sleep, the look he gave him when he told him to eat, the look he gave him when he went above and beyond to make Thomas happy and healthy.

Thomas's lips parted, his whole body softening despite the aggressive feelings that he was experiencing. Those chocolate brown eyes, as they usually did, seemed to take him into a whole other universe - seemed to take away every single bad thing that this cruel world had to offer. The hand wrapped around his bicep burned into his skin, the heat wrapping around his chest and tightening around his heart.

He was fucked.

"Thomas," Minho's voice sounded in front of him, breaking Thomas's concentration. He ripped his gaze away from Newt's, and looked ahead of him. Minho, Frypan and Gally all held the same expressions of hurt and disappointment.

He realized, all at once, that they were looking to him. In their minds, he was still their leader. He was still the one that they looked to in a crisis, even after all this time. 

The realization seemed to push any rash thoughts and feelings towards the girl to the back of his mind. He could deal with his own hatred later. Right now, he needed to keep a level head.

For them.

"Tom, I-"

At the sound of her voice, Thomas closed his eyes for a brief moment. He took another deep breath, and accidentally caught the vanilla scent behind him. In that moment, he could pretend that it was the old Newt.  _His_ Newt. The scent of the boy behind him, and his soft hand touching his skin, he could keep a level head. He knew he could. 

So, he pretended. 

He pretended that this was his Newt, _his Newt_ holding him back because thats  _exactly what he would have done_. He would have felt Thomas's pain in that moment, and knew that he would have reacted rash and irresponsible.

Newt knew that he would have to be... his glue.

Newt knew that he would have to help keep Thomas together, although he  _knew_ that the boy was in pieces before him.

"Let's go inside," Thomas said, his eyes fluttering open. His voice was clear and direct - an order. Minho, Frypan, and Gally all relaxed at the sound. Despite the chaos going on, they could  _hear_ that their leader was back. Their bodies relaxed from their stiff position, and they all turned to look back at the girls in front of them.

Teresa, who could hear the leadership in Thomas's voice from his command, nodded hesitantly. Without another word, she backed up through the open gate and walked back through the tall grass to where their little back house was. Harriet lowered her gun from Thomas, looking hesitant. She had clearly heard the change in Thomas as well, and knew that something serious was about to go down in that house. She turned to follow Teresa without another word.

Frypan and Gally followed after Teresa, but Minho stayed behind. He was staring at Thomas with relief and...respect. He gave Thomas a curt, emotion nod, before turning to follow after the boys.

"Everything will be alright," Newt said behind him, though his voice was tentative. He slowly let go of Thomas's arm, although the scorching heat that it left remained. The wall around Thomas's heart shuttered and cracked with the sound of Newt's voice, calming and reassuring as it always used to be. 

"Let's hope so," Thomas whispered back before walking after Minho. He heard Newt's boots walking in the broken street behind him, and as his feet found purchase with the tall grass, he heard Newt close the gate behind him. Minho was the last one outside of the small beige house, and he ducked through the doorway as Thomas approached. 

As Thomas passed through the threshold, the sight of a new man caught his attention. He had light colored sandy hair, with blue eyes and a pointed face. He appeared to be the same age as the rest of them, but as this world makes them, looked much older and worn out. There were bags under his eyes, and he glared at Thomas cautiously. 

The old house looked exactly as Thomas had remembered it - five mattresses on the floor with piles of clothes surrounding them. Now, though, there were six people inside of it. He took a step forward into the room, giving Newt enough room to step into the house behind him. Now, there were eight people, and the room was much too small for that. 

Frypan and Gally were sitting down with their backs against the opposite wall from Thomas. They looked happy to be inside, and Gally even gave Thomas a small nod. Frypan was too busy looking at everyone else in the room. 

Minho took a few steps forward to sink awkwardly onto the floor next to Gally. Thomas realized that his best friends looked  _exhausted_. They had finally found the person that they had been looking for for weeks. The person that they had all been unable to forget for months. They were all drained and exhausted, but relieved as hell. They finally got to relax after all these months...even though they were now prisoners, of course. 

Harriet and Sonya were standing against the wall to Thomas's left, both looking nervous. The other boy was on Thomas's right, still glaring at him, and Newt took a step around Thomas's to join his side. The boy had his own gun in his hands, and looked very much untrusting and ready to use it. 

Then, there was Teresa. She practically stood behind Harriet, her back pressed against the wall. She looked terrified.

There was a moment of silence, as if they assumed that Thomas would go sit with the rest of the boys. He didn't. He stood his ground. When they got the hint that he wasn't moving anywhere, Harriet sighed.

"Okay," Harriet said to Thomas's left, sounding exhausted herself. "So talk."

"Okay," Thomas said, looking at his three friends on the floor. The trust and respect that they stared up at him was enough to launch him into his story.

He spoke about The Glade. He spoke about their roles that they played, and how they all were trapped there. He spoke about the monsters, and how they killed so many that night he stung himself. He spoke about how they escaped, how they thought they were found, and how they were betrayed. He spoke about everything. It took at least an hour or two, but he didn't stop.

"Then Teresa," He said, looking up at the girl cowering against the wall. "She led them to us. She let them take Minho without a second thought. She helped WCKD test on innocent, scared children. She knew what she was doing. She said she was trying to find a cure, but at what cost? In the end, she tried to reconcile herself, but then she disappeared again. She betrayed us again. That's when Ne-"

Thomas stopped. Harriet rose her eyebrows, hearing the sudden emotion in his voice. Thomas looked up at the ceiling for a moment, and took a deep breath. What the hell was that? Why was Thomas about to cry? He felt everyone's eyes on him, waiting for the rest of the story.

He had never spoken about that night out loud. He had never repeated that night's events. 

Eyes still cast upward, he continued.

"N...Newt. He told me about The Flare inside of him."

There was a silence that seemed to be too loud. There were the sounds of heavy breathing from everyone in the room, and a roaring in his ears.

"He was forgetting who we were. He couldn't remember...me. My name. His own name."

Thomas's voice was becoming raspy and undone. He felt the tears pushing to the surface, but he attempted to hold them down as best as he could. He knew he looked like a mess, but he couldn't help himself. Not even the three boys' on the floor knew of this story.

"He was scared and lost. He was losing himself to the flare and...the night that we burned WCKD to the ground, he was...dying. We were almost to the roof, when Janson attacked me. Got me pretty bad. I was almost passing out, but...Newt did before me. I carried him outside, killed Ava Paige, and we waited for someone to come save us. But...we thought it was too late for Newt. He wasn't responsive. I was told that I needed to leave him if we wanted to go to the Safe Haven. If I didn't leave him, my other option was to stay with him on that burning roof. I...I passed out from blood loss before I could tell them that I..."

"Wanted to stay?" Newt's voice snapped Thomas from reality, his head slowly lowering to look across the room at him. Those beautiful brown eyes were swirling with their own tears. His lips and hands were shaking. He looked broken in half. "You would have stayed?"

"Of course I would have," Thomas whispered, the tears finally breaking over. He laughed a forced laugh, and hung his head low to hide it from everyone's sight. “You never left my side...how could I have ever left yours?”

"So you knew about this the whole time, then?" Newt demanded, startling him with his hostility. He looked up, shocked that Newt was talking to him like that, but then realized that it wasn't directed towards him at all. "Why would you betray me like that? What the hell is wrong with you?"

It was Newt's turn to take a step towards Teresa, but Aris reached out and grabbed his arm roughly. Newt pushed him off roughly, but didn't make another advance toward the girl. His eyes were blazing and furious, despite a few tears that had escaped. "I felt so _lost_ these past few months, I felt so... _fuck!_ You knew this whole time! That there were people who cared about me, people who thought I had died and cared that I did, and you did _nothing!"_

Thomas looked at Teresa. She looked terrified, and scared. As she should be. It looked as if she was trying to shrink into the wall. Her eyes were wide, and staring speechlessly at Newt. 

 _"Talk!"_ Newt yelled, his voice seeming to vibrate through the whole room. "You better start explaining yourself, or I'll-"

"Okay!" Teresa gasped, shaking her head quickly. "Newt, I didn't know if they were alive or-"

"You're telling me," Gally snapped aggressively from the floor, pulling Teresa's attention off of Newt. His hazel eyes were blazing. "that you didn't see our huge fucking berg leaving? You're such a damn liar -"

"Okay, okay," Teresa snapped, flustered. "Fine. I knew you were all alive, but how was I supposed to find you? Why would I lift Newt's spirit only to have it crushed if we all found you dead! And what if we did find you all, and you killed me? I mean, come on! Look at how you're all looking at me!"

"So, you recognized them? When we were hiding for days, _terrified_  of them?" Sonya snapped, turning to look at Teresa with rage. Her hands were balled up into fists. 

"I was going to tell you all when I saw them, okay?! I just needed... a bit more time with my friends before they all hated me."

There was a silence. Thomas glanced at his friends then. They all looked speechless as well, but fuming. Even Fry was staring at Teresa as if he wanted to smack her. 

"I did do all of that to find a cure. To try and find a cure. But you all don't understand what I did for Newt, either. Before you hate me, just...listen.  _Please_." 

Thomas didn't say a word. His friends glanced at him, and he just nodded. 

"I found Newt on that roof when you all were already in the air. I had the serum, with Thomas's blood. I gave it to him, and I helped halfway drag him down that burning building, all by myself. He was conscious. That whole time, he was conscious."

Minho made a strangled noise from the floor, staring up at Teresa in horror. They all did. Awful, poisonous thoughts filled Thomas's mind. There was no way to describe the guilt and pain that he felt in this moment. It felt as if a piece of lead had fallen onto his chest. 

"He was barely conscious when I found him, but he slowly woke up after I gave him the serum. He was talking non-stop. He thought you had died, Thomas. He had..." Thomas's head hung once more, the lead piece slamming down into his chest once more and causing a huge, gaping whole. His knees shook. He closed his eyes and tried to take even, deep breaths, despite feeling as if he was going to collapse.

"He was losing his mind. He was crying, he was shouting, he was acting crazy. He wouldn't stop talking about..."

"Enough," Newt snapped, voice hoarse. Thomas didn't dare look at him. "Stop. Stop talk-"

"I pulled him into the woods surrounding the WCKD compound. There were so many infected...they were all coming to investigate the noises. Newt suddenly lost conscious again. That's when they found us," Teresa said, gesturing to the two girls near her, and the boy on the other side. "They found us just in time. We all escaped. When Aris was carrying Newt back to their campsite, I could see him turning back to normal. I thought...I thought it was too late."

The silence in the room was deafening. Thomas kept his eyes closed.

"And when Newt woke up, he didn't remember anything. Newt thought you had died, Tom. The way he had acted, how _broken_ he was...was I supposed to put him through that again?"

"You said you didn’t know who I was. You said you saved my life because you saw me dying, you didn't even tell me I had The Flare." Newt's voice was shaking and distressed. Thomas couldn't imagine the pain he was feeling. He wished he could comfort him. It was killing him that he couldn't comfort him. Newt not being able to remember anything, and hearing all of this, was obviously tearing him apart. 

"I was ashamed," Teresa explained. "I was ashamed at what I had done to all of you. I was ashamed that you almost died. I couldn't bring myself to tell any of you what I had done."

"Thank you," Thomas said, finally able to use his voice. His voice was raspy and shaky. The pain in his chest was still there, aching away, but he needed to say it. "Thank you for saving him."

"I knew that you would never forgive me if I didn't," Teresa said, laughing without humor. He could practically see the fake smile through his closed eyes. "You would have killed me with your bare hands if you had ever found out that I hadn't, Tom."

"I would have let him," Frypan cut in, laughing a cruel laugh himself. "I would have asked if he needed help."

"Thank you," Minho cut in, sounding as if it was painful for him to say. "Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah," Gally snapped. "A thanks is in order, I guess, but still...fuck you, bitch."

Thomas laughed then, unable to help himself. He opened his eyes slowly, catching sight of the surprise on his friends faces. Their hardened expressions and bodies softening drastically at the sound. They all laughed then, unable to help it. Frypan, Gally, Minho, and Thomas began laughing so hard that Thomas started crying again. It was all from the stress, the weight on their shoulders, their hatred for Teresa - everything was easing away. They were finally coming to terms on what was going on, and finally accepting everything. Nothing was truly funny, but  _damn_ did it feel good to laugh. 

 

-

 

Newt took a few hour walk after that. He didn’t tell anyone anything besides “I’ll be back later.”

And that was that.

Thomas was kept on the edge for the whole time he was gone. Of course, it wasn’t really his place to worry about him anymore, but he couldn’t help it. What if one of the infected got to him? What if there was a hoard of them? What if he got captured by another group out there? What if -

Stop. He had to stop. He was going to lose his mind if he didn’t. So there he lay, on the floor with everyone else, while Aris made some of that food that stunk up the whole house last time they were here. He was outside, cooking on top of a small fire that he had made. Teresa was with him, but it was obvious that he wasn’t paying any mind to her. She was just trying to get some space from the people that she had betrayed inside.

Harriet and Sonya were asking question after question. Their handcuffs were still on, considering the fact that the girls were easing up the smallest bit, and Thomas’s wrists were hurting like all hell. Going to the restroom was a difficult task. Minho had to take a dump, and was allowed to take his handcuffs off just for the task.

Sonya had a gun pointed at them as Minho took a small walk, and said that if he wasn’t back in five minutes, that she would shoot us. He came back within the five, and the handcuffs were slapped back on.

It was late in the night, around the time that everyone was going to sleep, when Newt had come back. It was quiet in the house, Harriet and Sonya already sleeping. Aris was on watch, sitting with his back propped up against the wall. The sharp features on his face still appeared to be angry, but he wasn’t glaring at Thomas anymore at least. He wouldn’t look at Teresa. She lay there, awake, as the other two girls slept.

Harriet, despite being upset at the boys, had pulled out a few mattresses from the big main house that stood in front of the small shack. She had three extra, and had laid them out on the floor around theirs.

Frypan and Minho shared one bed. It was comical to see two big men crowded on a twin mattress, fully clothed and handcuffs still on. They had both fallen asleep relatively quickly despite this, although Fry’s head had slipped off of the mattress and was hanging over the side at what looked like an extremely painful angle. Gally, who was a pretty big guy, got his own mattress. He was asleep as well, snoring softly.

Seeing his friends asleep and peaceful, despite the handcuffs still on their wrists, made Thomas’s heart tighten. It was such an amazing sight to see. They all deserved the world, and he wished that they could always be like this.

When Newt came into the room, Thomas’s eyes snapped towards the door. He was wearing a tattered dark coat, with a dark shirt underneath. His blonde hair was windswept and messy - cheeks pink from the cold. His heart seemed to somersault in his chest at the sight. 

Newt didn’t look at him, but glanced over at Aris instead.

“I’ll watch now. Sleep,” Newt said, nodding toward Aris’s bed...on the other side of the room.

Oh, shit.

Thomas just realized that the mattress that he was next to was Newt’s. Aris gave him a small, tight smile, and handed his gun to Newt. Newt took it, and hesitantly glanced over to Thomas. As soon as they made eye contact, Thomas saw Newt’s chest heave as he took a deep breath. Ears now appearing to be pink, he carefully stepped over a few limbs and mattresses over to where Thomas was laying.

Thomas, his heart pounding away in his ears, didn’t feel ready for this - ready for this intimate closeness at night that they always used to share.

Newt carefully sank into the mattress, which was pushed against the wall now, due to how many were now crammed in this small space. He put his back against the wall, and crossed his legs in front of him. Now facing Thomas, Thomas saw him place the gun on his side. He didn’t even seem as if he wanted to use it at all.

Thomas stared up at the ceiling, not knowing what to do. He felt as if he couldn’t speak. Despite the quiet room, his heartbeat in his ears and his breathing seemed deafening.

Should he say something?

This wasn’t _his_ Newt, but it was still Newt. And he couldn’t imagine how awful he must be feeling right now. It was Thomas’s duty to comfort him, and he was failing.

Well, he never thought he would get the chance to again.

Thomas raised his cuffed wrists to his face to push his hair back, but struggled quite a bit.

In a split second, Newt was standing up and quickly traveling across the room. His long legs quietly and quickly stepped around the small obstacles in the room once more. Thomas couldn’t help but keep his eyes on his legs as he walked away - couldn’t help but admire his long limbs. He had always been a sucker for them.

Newt squatted to be able to have access to a backpack on the floor near Sonya’s mattress. He rummaged through the front pockets for a few moments, eyes furrowed, before he found purchase at what he was looking for.

Newt stood, long limbs on full display once more, and quietly walked through the obstacle course on the floor. He slowly approached Thomas, and sunk down once again onto his mattress. Instead of leaning back onto the wall like he had been before, he slowly scooted forward towards Thomas.

He came back with the handcuff keys.

Newt fumbled in the darkness for Thomas’s wrists. As his fingers brushed against his skin, Thomas wasn’t able to help the quick inhale of breath that he let out. Sure, the pain in his wrists were intense, but the warmth that flooded through his body at the contact of the blondes skin was even more world shattering.

Newt’s long, lean fingers found the lock and placed the key inside, slowly and gently working it until it popped open. Thomas sighed in relief, the pain in one wrist immensely lessening. Newt worked at the other one as Thomas lowered his free hand to his chest. His wrist was _pulsating._ It felt as if it was on fire, and the feeling of Newt’s skin wasn’t helping one bit.

As soon as Newt slid the remaining cuff off of his wrist, Thomas slowly pulled his other wrist to join the other on his chest.

“Thank you.”

The blonde didn’t answer at first, but slowly leaned forward once more. He took as good of a look at Thomas’s wrists as he could in the dark, his eyebrows furrowed and upset. He slowly reached out and gently grabbed hold of Thomas’s wrist, turning it over with those lean fingers. His eyes widened slightly, and Thomas broke his gaze upon the blondes face to look at them for himself. They were practically rubbed raw, and extremely red. They felt as if he had burned them.  

“Bloody hell. I’m so, _so_ sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Thomas muttered, his voice barely higher than a whisper. He felt as if it was stuck in his throat, unable to release properly. He couldn’t even believe that he was able to speak the small sentence.

“They look awful,” Newt whispered, fingers releasing their hold on Thomas’s skin. The fire from his touch didn’t release its hold on his heart. The rushing noise in his ears didn’t stop.

“So sweet of you to say, thanks,” Thomas joked, surprising himself. It was as if the old Thomas had jumped out of its shell, the automatic teasing a result of seeing Newt. He was shocked at what he had said, not even realizing that he was capable of joking in this moment. Newt’s eyebrows raised for a moment, eyes widening the smallest bit, before he gave a small smile.

Thomas’s heart went _woosh!_ and his breathing caught in his chest. He felt as if he couldn’t breathe - felt as if Newt had scooped out all of his insides with the small smile. It was a sad smile, with a hint of surprised humor, and Thomas couldn’t believe his eyes. 

There Newt sat, looking down at him in the dark, looking as angelic as he ever did before. The little lighting from the window illuminated his blonde locks, and Thomas could barely catch a glimpse at those chocolate eyes.

“Any time.”

 

 

 

 

**In The Scorch**

**(the months between TST/TDC)**

 

"Thomas," Frypan whispered loudly, startling him.  
  
Thomas's eyes had been fixed on Newt as he lay in the darkness, passed out in his sleeping bag. He had his face smashed against his arm and his lips were slightly pouted, the sleeping bag pulled up to his chin. Thomas was about to head to sleep as well, standing over Newt and ready to lay down, when he caught sight of the pure image below him. Thomas couldn’t take his eyes off of him, even though he was already half asleep. He blamed that on the fact that he hadn’t heard Fry say his name about ten times already.  
  
Thomas looked over his shoulder, catching sight of Frypan in the harsh light of the fire. He was on first watch, and Thomas was able to see the gun slung across his chest in the low light. He was standing near the fire to keep warm as he was on watch, their sleeping friends huddled near the fire as well. He waved Thomas over.  
  
The rest of the group were always a bit further away from them. Thomas and Newt always slept near the Jeep, and off on their own. The rest of the group were a tiny ways off, maybe about twenty feet. Thomas crossed the small distance and slowly walked over to Fry, the cold air nipping at his nose and ears. It was an exceptionally windy night, and he was grateful when he automatically felt the welcoming warmth of the fire as he approached. Brenda was the closest to them, laying about five feet away and snoring away.

“Everything ok?” Thomas asked, his leadership pushing to the surface. Always expecting the worst, as usual. Frypan laughed quietly at that, clapping him on the back with a wide hand. His expression seemed off, and although he was smiling, his dark eyes weren’t meeting Thomas’s. They stayed looking down at the fire, not daring to cast upwards.

“Had a question for you, boss.” Frypan was facing the fire now, as if he was asking the question to it instead of Thomas. He looked... _embarsssed._

“What’s up?” Thomas asked, curiosity eating him alive. What was so important that he couldn’t look at him? The thought sent chills down his spine. He repeated himself once more. “Is everything ok?”

Frypan sighed, as if he was going to regret what he was about to say. He cocked his head to the side, still staring longingly into the fire, as if he wanted to jump into it.

“I was wondering if you have a thing with Teresa,” Frypan said in a low voice. He was speaking quietly and quickly, as if it would get the conversation over faster. Thomas was too shocked to respond for a moment, eyes widening.

_Teresa?_

Fry seemed to take the silence as a refusal to answer. He stole a glance at Thomas, and his guilty and embarrassed expression suddenly changed into one of surprise. Thomas realized how stupid he must look, eyes about to pop out of his head and mouth gaping slightly open. He hadn’t even realized he had done so.

“You don’t have to tell me. I was just wondering -”

“No,” Thomas interjected, laughing humorlessly. Frypan raised his eyebrows at him. “Never. Never ever.”

“Really?” Frypan asked, eyebrows raising. There was a hint of a smile on his lips, but Thomas couldn’t begin to understand why.

“Of course not.”

“I’m kind of surprised, you know,” Fry said, laughing once more. He seemed a million times more laid back now, at ease because of Thomas’s reaction. Thomas shook his head to clear his thoughts.

“Why surprised?”

“That girl was completely in love with you,” Frypan said, laughing once more. He stared at Thomas with a pitiful expression. “You really didn’t notice?”

Thomas hadn’t. At his silence, Fry shrugged. His eyes were still watching Thomas carefully, despite his carefree nature returning. “I mean...you’re a bit too busy, man. It’s probably hard to notice those things.”

Thomas silently agreed with him. He nodded his head, suddenly trapped in his own thoughts. Teresa had been in love with him?

Gross.

If anything, at most, she would have been a sister to him. Her presence didn’t make his heart race, her voice didn’t make his body tingle, her smile didn’t leave him breathless. Her presence didn’t leave comfort -

The realization of what he had just thought seemed to slam down on Thomas like a ton of bricks.

 _Teresa_ didn’t. 

It wasn’t Teresa who was able to do that to him. It wasn’t Teresa who crept into his mind at the thoughts.

“Thomas, can I be real with you for a moment?”

Since words seemed to be beyond him in the moment, Thomas could only nod.

“I don’t think everyone realizes that you don’t share the same feelings for Teresa.”

“What?” Thomas asked, blinking in surprise. Who would think that? Why would anyone think that he would be interested in her? And why was Fry telling him so?

“I think you should assure certain people that you don’t.” His words were direct, and hinting. His dark eyes bore into Thomas’s intensely - obviously trying to silently communicate something. There was something hanging in the air between them, and they both knew it.

The silence stretched on. The harsh wind picked up for a moment, the shadow of the firelight dancing across them. When it was clear that Thomas was incapable of speaking, Frypan cocked his head one more time. He gave Thomas a small smile.

The same thought seemed to pop up in their head.

“Can I ask you one more thing?”

Thomas nodded.

“Newt?”

There was a moment of silence. That one word hung suspended in the air. That one word wrapped around Thomas’s mind, leaving every thought to evaporate except -

 _Newt._

Frypan had turned to look at Thomas then, as if this was the question he really wanted to hear an answer to. As his eyes caught Thomas’s, Thomas seemed to freeze up.

What?

He was going to say “no”, he was going to say “of course not”, but it didn’t seem to be able to leave his mouth.

 _Why_ _couldn’t_ _it_ _leave_ _his_ _mouth?_

“Tommy?” A sleepy voice sounded, making Thomas and Frypan both jump. Thomas spun around to see the blonde lifting his head, just enough so that Thomas could only see his eyes peeking at him from over his sleeping bag. “What are you guys doing?”

It was clear he had just woken up. Although he was way too far to be able to hear what they were speaking about, that didn’t stop Thomas from being embarrassed. Ignoring Fry, not even looking back at him, he turned and walked back over to Newt.

Fry’s question hung in the air, unanswered.

That in itself was enough.

He had gotten his answer.

-

 

The next day was a shower day in The Scorch. On these days, they all went to a small lake about ten minutes driving from their campsite, and collected barrels of water. They then took the barrels back to their camp, and boiled them in order to kill whatever bacteria was living inside of the lake water. It was a long and very difficult process, but everyone felt much better after shower day.  
  
Thomas had accidentally slept in, which was a huge mistake. It had been his day to go and drive over to the lake with Frypan, and he had missed it. Although he could have been easily woken up, everyone knew the boy could use a few extra hours of sleep. It didn't stop Frypan and Brenda from playing a small prank on him, though.  
  
Thomas was passed out at his normal place near the Jeep, when Fry and Brenda dragged an extra barrel over to him. Thomas had been sleeping soundly, when a voice woke him.  
  
“Shouldn’t have slept in!”  
  
Thomas halfway woke from the loud voice, and his eyes had barely opened when a huge barrel of water was tipped over onto him. Thomas gasped, jumping to his feet. The water was extremely cold and soaked him to the bone, his clothes feeling disgusting and sticking to him as if the water had leeches swimming in it.  
  
He hated wet clothes. Absolutely _hated_ them. They felt awful and made his skin crawl.  
  
Half asleep and not thinking, Thomas began stripping off his wet clothes. He heard laughing as he did so, and couldn’t help but laugh a bit himself at the sound as he pulled his shirt over his head. The laughing was so rare to hear, and it was wonderful. Thomas’s shirt was off now, and he quickly undid his belt to shimmy out of his jeans. The warm sun felt amazing on his wet body.

He wasn’t thinking twice about getting undressed. He assumed that it was just Brenda and Frypan watching and laughing, and the rest were busy showering as they normally did around this time. He did not notice Newt at first, who was standing off to the side.  
  
Newt had stopped breathing, and his eyes were popping out of his head.  
  
“Okay, okay. I guess that I deserved that,” Thomas laughed, bending over and attempting to kick off his jeans. He almost lost his balance, and stumbled a bit with his jeans around his ankles. Since they were tight around his ankles, he looked like an idiot trying to regain his balance. This caused Fry and Brenda to howl with laughter.

Thomas glanced up, shirt off and jeans around his ankles, and caught sight of Newt over Brenda’s shoulder.

Newt’s expression was something that Thomas couldn’t place. When their eyes met, Newt quickly spun around and walked away. Thomas flushed red with embarrassment.

Newt had seen him soaking wet, and only in his tight black briefs.

-

**2:34 AM**

***NSFW.**

**Ends at the “sad” memory.**

Newt, on Thomas’s left side as always, suddenly shifted away from him. He always slept with his legs curled up, facing him, so Thomas was surprised by the unusual action. Thomas was more than half asleep, only woken up by a small nightmare that he had had. He couldn’t remember the nightmare, though, as the confusion that he felt from Newt’s shifting stole his full attention.

Thomas hoped it had nothing to do with him embarrassing himself with his little black underwear earlier. Newt had been distant with him since, and he was too much of a coward to say anything to him. The thought that Newt hated seeing him like that made him extremely upset. He wished he hadn’t stripped down earlier, practically naked and soaking wet. He wished he could take it back.

As he opened his mouth to lazily call out to him and ask if he was okay, Newt took a deep breath. Thomas watched as Newt’s arm moved under the sleeping bag. Thomas watched as Newt kept up a slow, steady pattern with his arm. Although he was on his side and facing away from Thomas, he got the hint.

 _Oh._

A rush of heat exploded inside of Thomas, his breath catching in his throat.

 _Oh._

Thomas had caught a few boys in The Glade doing this, even unfortunately witnessing Minho’s hand in his pants. They always assumed everyone was asleep, and usually did it in extremely early hours of the morning. Thomas, every time, groaned mentally and quickly shut his eyes. He would even breathe deeper to try and drone out the sound that some made quietly.

Thomas had absolutely no idea why he didn’t close his eyes this time. He didn’t know why he didn’t breathe heavier to drown out any noises. Witnessing anyone else doing this had never seemed to leave him breathless and heavy between his own legs. He couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the boy next to him.

The heat and pressure in his body seemed to be overpowering him. He felt himself becoming overwhelmed - becoming absolutely wrecked at the sight next to him. His abdomen clenched up. Thomas wasn’t surprised in the least when he felt himself straining against his sweatpants.

Confused, but not surprised.

Thomas couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that he was insanely hard at the sight of his best friend stroking himself. He couldn’t seem to begin to come up with any reason as to why -

Newt let out a small noise at the back of his throat, Thomas’s thoughts seeming to freeze in place and fizzling into nothing. He felt like he had been electrocuted.

No fucking way.

The sound made Thomas’s cock twitch, the heat pooling in his stomach seeming to crash down intensely and wrap around entire body. The noise was so sexual and low, and Thomas knew that he was the only possible person that could have heard. They were too separated from everyone else in their sleeping bags. The fact that only Thomas could hear his soft moan was so intimate and….

His whole body seemed to vibrate in adrenaline.

Thomas realized that Newt’s arm was slowly stroking himself, slower than any pace Thomas was ever able to cum at. The sudden realization struck him hard.

He was _teasing himself._

Oh, holy hell.

Newt kept up that slow pace for a while. His arm was under his head to support himself, and Thomas was shocked when Newt grabbed a fistful of his own hair and gently pulled. Another low, breathless noise came from his throat. He obviously enjoyed the pain of having his hair pulled. Thomas’s legs began to shake.

Thomas wondered what it would feel like to slide his fingers through those short blonde locks. He wondered how soft his hair would feel if he tugged on it.

He wanted to be the cause of that noise that Newt was making.

Thomas couldn’t help himself of thinking what he wanted to do to him in this moment. He had never thought of such things before - always seeming to control his thoughts much better than he was in this moment. His thoughts felt as if they were on fire, consuming every inch of his mind and alighting it. He had no control over what he was thinking of - thoughts springing up in his head like a wildfire.

Thomas had always been the one in control. He was always searching for it, always needing to feel stable... but something about Newt made him want to lose control. Something about Newt made him want to give Newt all the control instead.

He wanted Newt to have complete control over him. 

He wanted Newt to kiss up and down his neck, his warm mouth sucking and biting as he went. He wanted to be on top of Newt, straddling his waist and sliding his hands against Newt’s warm chest. He wanted to unbuckle Newt’s belt and grab ahold of him while the other hand pulled at that soft blonde hair. He wanted Newt to look up at him with those big chocolate eyes as he did so.

He could practically feel Newt squirming under him, moaning his name into his mouth as he pleased him. He wanted Newt to pull at his own hair, and roughly scratch his back up as he became overwhelmed with pleasure. 

"Come on, Tommy," Newt whispered under him, pupils blown as he looked deeply into his eyes. Thomas, at the deep voice, yanked on Newt's soft hair. Newt gasped, but smirked at the same time. He gripped tightly onto Thomas, leaning up to brush his warm mouth against his. The smirk was still there on those pink lips. "There you go, Tommy. Keep going,  _please -"_

Those chocolate eyes underneath him, completely at his mercy, would cause him to come undone easily. 

Newt had begun to pick up his pace. His small noises were happening more frequently - his hand still tugging desperately at his own hair. The noises had begun to sound more deep and more like moans instead of whimpers. The change sent shivers up and down Thomas’s spine. He felt himself pulsating as he strained against his sweatpants - and felt himself practically dripping with precum.

After about a minute, Newt couldn’t hold himself together any longer. His motions were becoming jerky, and he was slightly squirming in his sleeping bag. He was coming undone. Thomas wanted to reach out to him, wanted to grab onto his soft skin and -

Newt let out a soft, deep moan. It sounded strained, as if he was trying to keep himself quiet. Thomas watched him finish his stoking, riding out his high. The blonde lay there for a moment, before reaching out to grab a dirty shirt near his head. Thomas closed his eyes as Newt cleaned himself up.

Thomas heard Newt turn in the sleeping bag once more, but he didn’t dare look. He swore he felt eyes on his face, before more shuffling, and a deep breath.

Thomas wished that Newt would turn away again and fall asleep, so that he could finish himself off as well. He hoped that Newt would never do that again, because the fire raging in the pit of his stomach was intense and painful. He knew that if he glanced down at his sweatpants under the covers, he would see a wet spot of precum, seeping through the fabric.

The next time it happened, he secretly joined him.

 

 

 

 

**The Burning of WCKD**

Before

 

“Well, I don’t know,” Gally said, his voice aggressive and teasing. Teresa sat in front of him, eyes still bouncing desperately around at everyone sitting behind Gally. She was still looking for someone to stick up for her. “We don’t necessarily need her. Right? Not all of her.”

Gally suddenly stood from his seat in front of her, turning towards where Thomas and Newt were sitting. He walked right up to the table that Frypan was sitting on top of, right behind them. Realization hit Thomas as soon as Gally passed him. He glanced back just in time to see Gally grab a knife from the table, his big hand closing around it aggressively. 

“We just need her finger.” Newt laughed darkly next to Thomas. 

“Gally, back off,” Thomas snapped,swiftly standing up. He didn’t dare glance at Teresa, knowing that her pitiful expression would anger him. He didn’t truly care if Gally cut the girls finger off, but he knew that they didn’t have time to threaten her. Threatening her would only make her scared and not listen to a word they were saying. That would be the stupid approach. 

Thomas heard Newt scoff next to him, but he didn’t look down at the blonde. 

"Oh really, Thomas? Worried about your little girlfriend? Who cares if she's missing a finger?"

Thomas ignored him. Newt had been in an awful mood since the mention of them going to get Teresa. He had been sulking and not talking to anyone. The moment she showed up, his expression had turned to pure hatred. He had even ripped the bag off of her head so roughly that Thomas swore he heard her neck crack.

Thomas blamed The Flare. He didn’t even want to start thinking about that right now, though. He couldn't. If he did, he wouldn't be able to concentrate on what was going on in front of him. All he would want to do instead is hold Newt for the rest of their lives.

There wasn't any chance that they could do that now. 

Thomas ignored the feeling of those chocolate eyes boring holes into the side of his head.

“What are you, squeamish? I can guarantee that she’s done a lot worse to Minho,” Gally snapped, staring at Thomas with anger. He towered over Thomas, but Thomas didn't dare back down. He glared up at Gally, determination winning over intimidation. “You know this bitch has.”

“Cutting her up is not the plan. Back off, Gally." Thomas was becoming desperate.

“It won’t make a difference. Do whatever you want to me. You still won’t get through the front door," Teresa said, attempting to sound brave. Thomas glanced over at her, and saw her head raised high. "The sensors will pick you up -”

Newt interrupted her from where he sat, voice thick with venom. “We know. We’re tagged. Property of WCKD, right? All thanks to you.”

Teresa’s eyes widened at the harshness of Newt’s tone. Newt was always the one who had been so level headed - so  _calm._ This new, infected Newt, must have been shocking to witness. It still was shocking to Thomas.

Thomas still didn’t look back at the blonde, but an ache spread in his chest at the thought of The Flare again.

_He couldn't think about that now._

Thomas, trying to return his focus back on the mission at hand, walked over to Teresa. He squatted next to her chair, and stared up at her with a cold glare. She looked surprised at that as well. She looked surprised that he even seemed to be giving her the time of day. She obviously thought that Thomas would have killed her on the spot. Thomas gave her a sarcastic smile. “You’re going to help us with that too.”

He help up the small blade in his hand for good measure, letting her know exactly what he wanted her to do.

 

-

 

As Teresa was poking at the back of Thomas’s neck, Newt was obviously keeping himself busy. He seemed to look everywhere but Thomas and Teresa, eyes jumping over them every single time he faced their direction. Thomas kept his eyes on the blonde, watching him scurry back and forth across the room. He was collecting a few coats, and distributing them to everyone else in the room. He even shrugged his coat off at one point, and suddenly Thomas couldn’t take his eyes off of the sight in front of him.

Newt was sweating buckets. The room that they were in was very cold, so the fact that he was sweating threw Thomas off. He was drenched in sweat, even running a hand across his face time and time again to prevent sweat from dripping into his eyes. 

Newt's cough was getting worse, too. It wasn't a normal cough anymore. Every minute or so, he let out a hoarse sounding cough that seemed to rattle deep inside of his lungs.

Thomas could hear Gally and Frypan talking badly about Teresa, despite her being right in front of them. Thomas could also hear Brenda and Jorge talking in hushed voices around the corner. Teresa seemed to be paying attention to Brenda and Jorge's conversation instead of the boys', her actions slowing down slightly at Thomas’s neck when their voices grew louder and closer. 

Jorge walked out then, and Brenda walked into view, passing them without a glance. Her face looked cold and determined to not glance down at them.

She obviously wasn't very happy with Teresa, either. 

“She’s looking good,” Teresa muttered, her hands still moving slowly against Thomas’s neck. The pain was pretty intense, and Thomas was only halfway paying attention to whatever Teresa was saying. He was also watching a very "busy" Newt still running back and forth around the room for no reason. He was now holding his stomach, with a pained look on his face. “When was her last treatment?”

“Right arm. Last time we saw you,” Thomas muttered nonchalantly, eyes still on Newt. Newt had suddenly stopped a few feet from them, pretending to wipe some dust off of a table, when Thomas felt Teresa’s fingers freeze on his neck.

“But that was months ago.”

Teresa’s hand seemed to slip, and Thomas felt the blade dig deep. Pain exploded deep into his neck, and seemed to shock down his spine.  Thomas gasped, flinching away from Teresa and scrambling away from her. 

Newt spun around then, the sound of Thomas’s gasp catching his attention immediately. He strode toward Teresa without hesitation, without knowing what had happened, and pushed past Thomas. Even from the small shove, Thomas could swear that Newt's skin was the temperature of the sun. 

Newt reached out and grabbed Teresa's wrist tightly, the blade slipping from her grasp and clattering to the floor. Teresa gasped, eyes wide and staring up at Newt with terror. 

“I’ll kill you if you touch him one more fucking time,” Newt snarled, yanking her closer by the wrist. The motion was aggressive and jerky, and she stumbled forward, almost crashing into the blonde. Thomas could see how tightly Newt was holding onto her, her wrist already blossoming into a bright color. “You understand me?”

“That’s enough, Newt,” Thomas snapped, shocked. He walked quickly forward and reached out to grab onto Newt’s shoulder. Newt flinched away from his touch, but let go of Teresa’s wrist all the same. He didn’t look back at Thomas, and all Thomas saw in front of him was how stiff Newt’s back was. He noticed Newt's hand fall down to his stomach once more. 

“Everything ok over there?” Gally asked from across the room where he was sitting with Frypan.

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re done,” Thomas muttered, Newt moving away from them at his voice. Newt quickly walked over to the table that Brenda was standing at, and she handed him his gun. Thomas walked away from Teresa, completely forgetting about her. He wanted to comfort Newt - to do _something._ He hated knowing the reason why Newt was acting like this, and not being able to help. It made him feel as if he was dropped in the middle of The Maze - lost and scared. He felt as if there wasn't any way out.

There wasn't. 

“Isn’t it sad seeing her like this? You were in love with her, weren’t you?” Brenda asked as Thomas approached, handing his gun to him. She didn’t see the harm in asking, her big brown eyes staring up at him innocently, but Thomas saw Newt freeze. He had been walking away as soon as Thomas approached, obviously avoiding him, but he had stopped about three feet away when he heard Brenda speak. Newt was still clutching onto his stomach. 

“Not a chance in hell,” Thomas snapped, cocking the gun in his hand.

Newt had begun walking away quickly after Thomas's answer, making a bee line to the door on the opposite side of the room. Thomas slowly jogged after him, ignoring Brenda calling out to him, but stopped dead in his tracks when he heard it.

Newt had disappeared outside, but had accidentally left the door propped slightly open. Thomas felt the cold breeze blowing through the door, ruffling his hair and clothes. The cold air had nothing to do with the chill that ran down his spine. 

Newt was throwing up again.

He was going to leave. He was going to turn around and leave. He _wanted_ to. He didn't want to deal with the flood of emotions that overtook him when he heard Newt throwing up once more. But...Thomas suddenly realized something that made him want to fall to his knees, and never get back up.

This was probably one of the last chances that Thomas would have to comfort Newt at all. 

Without thinking, Thomas shoved the gun into his waistband, and walked toward the door. He pushed it open slightly, the cold metal seeming to burn his fingertips as he did so. The wind was brutal out here - the cold seeping deep into his bones. It didn't seem to have any effect on him, though, when he saw Newt hunched over a few feet away. 

Underneath him was a huge pool of blood. Mixed with it, was a black substance that Thomas couldn't place.

"Newt," Thomas whispered sadly, unable to help himself. He had spoken so quietly that he thought that the wind had swallowed up the name, carrying it far away from the two boys. It didn't, though. Newt quickly straightened up, turning to glance back at Thomas.

His chocolate eyes seemed distant and hollow - his mind obviously very far away from this place. Far away from everything. The moment their eyes met, though, he seemed to come home. Newt's eyes softened, his expression softened, and his body relaxed. His blonde head softly tilted to the right, as if to get a better look at Thomas. Newt's hair softly blew around in the breeze, his shirt billowing around him.

Newt looked  _sad_ _._

Thomas, although physically close to Newt, felt galaxies away from him. This didn't seem like his Newt at all. To Thomas, Newt suddenly looked very small in this huge world - almost  _fragile._ Thomas had never seen him look fragile - ever. Even when Newt was close to crying on his shoulder in The Scorch.

Thomas could guarantee that he looked heartbroken himself.

Thomas threw himself at the blonde, wrapping his arms around his slim torso. 

He had been right. Newt had an insanely high fever. It seemed to scorch into Thomas's skin, almost as if the simple contact was burning him alive. Thomas, without knowing, had been shivering from the cold around them. When he had his arms wrapped around Newt though, his body felt very warm. 

Inside, though, he felt hollow and cold.

Newt only hesitated for a brief moment before throwing his arms around Thomas's neck and pulling him close.

They stood there for what seemed like an eternity. Newt let Thomas cry silently into his shoulder - let him say what they both knew was a silent, unspoken goodbye. Newt buried his head against the side of Thomas's, his nose pressing against the side of his face. Thomas could swear that he felt Newt's own tears sliding down his face as well. As they stood there, their hair whipping around them in the breeze, Thomas wished that the world could open up and swallow them together. He never wanted this moment to end. He never wanted to let go.

Holding Newt felt like finally coming home after a long day. Holding Newt made Thomas realize that he wouldn’t rather be doing anything else in the world. 

Holding Newt felt like happy endings truly existed. 

Since they were pressed so closely, their bodies molding into each other, Thomas could feel Newt’s heartbeat against his own chest. Although it was a sad moment, feeling it thudding away against him felt so reassuring and comforting.

Thomas had no idea that in this moment, Newt desperately wanted to tell him that his heart belonged to him. 

As Newt gently nuzzled his face deeper against his face, Thomas came to a sudden realization that made his heart skip a beat. His hands gripped tightly against Newt's waist, a new batch of tears threatening to overflow. 

Thomas couldn't smell any trace of vanilla. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't already, please listen to: Aquilo - Silhouette.  
> It's the most "newtmas" song that I've ever heard and made me cry so hard hahaha.  
> This whole fic fits with those lyrics. 
> 
> The hug at the end was so unplanned and I was NOT going to write it, but it kind of just happened. I hope it was okay haha. 
> 
> ***if anyone has any requests to make, anything they would like to see in this story, list it below! It can be set in TMR, TST, or TDC :)  
>  
> 
> I may not post next week! I will try my hardest, but my boyfriend (who got hit by a car yesterday, by the way) is starting at a new college. I don't handle change very well, and I'm already busy, so I might become very overwhelmed. So... no promises! I hope this longer chapter is enough just in case i don't. I plan to, but...life. You know?
> 
> I want you all to know that I'm so busy, that I have to write as I speed walk through my college's hallways. (I haven't hit anyone yet, thankfully). I type in my class, and I even type on my way to my car, and (don't do this) at red lights. I even type on my phone at work (and I work with kids so that’s a big no no). I barely have time to sit down and do anything anymore :(
> 
> Also... I'm sometimes on toontown. If anyone ever wanted to come join me :)
> 
> I hope you're all having an amazing week <3 i missed you all. 
> 
> ****
> 
> I just realized that I haven't promoted my other COMPLETELY FLUFF fic on here! If you're tired of sadness and angst, I wrote a short fic that is just a bunch of happiness and fluff haha. 
> 
> * Misplaced Mistakes (You're the Best Kind) *
> 
> When Thomas slips his number into a pretty girls jacket, he doesn’t expect it to actually belong to the boy standing next to her. Thomas has never been interested in men, so why is he excited that the jacket belonged to a handsome blonde?
> 
> OR-  
> “straight” Thomas accidentally gives his number to Newt instead of Teresa and is strangely happy he messed up.  
> It's completed, so no waiting for updates lol. 
> 
> I just want to give you all SOME sort of relief if you are having a hard time with these angsty chapters (as a bunch of comments have let me know lol I love you all so much I'm so sorry).


	10. something different

 

**Present Day**

5:32 AM

 

Newt, looking down through the darkness at Thomas as he slept, thought about how he automatically knew that this was something different.

 _They_ were something different. 

Newt had never thought about liking boys before seeing Thomas. He obviously hadn’t ever found any of the three girls attractive, and he had equally never thought Aris was attractive. He never found himself examining anyone’s body or liking anyone more than the next. Even seeing the three boys' that he apparently knew didn't spark any type of attraction whatsoever. 

When he looked at Thomas, though… _oh boy._  

Thomas was something else. Thomas was beautiful in every single way. So beautiful - so damn _attractive_ that looking at him made his heart flutter as if it was a bird trapped in a cage.  

From the moment he had seen him, even though he had pointed a gun at him, he had been done for. The sight of the brunette made his knees weak, mouth run dry, and his heartbeat had slammed away in his ears.

It was comical how intensely Newt's body reacted to seeing Thomas, as if it was telling him to take a step toward him at all times. 

The map of freckles that resembled a constellation upon his face, his glorious skin color, his defined facial features and those gorgeous big brown eyes. His _voice…_ that was something that Newt was sure he could never get over. It sounded like honey. It made his knees _weak._ And those lips that it came out of?  

Damn.

Newt automatically knew that he was in _deep,_  when he got hard at the closeness of them in the darkness as he took the handcuffs off. It was an inappropriate time to even _get_ hard, seeing as the poor boy had beaten up wrists thanks to Sonya. He should not have gotten hard over the boy. It was not the time or place...it wasn't the right world for that. There wasn't time for any of that. 

When their skin had touched, a fire rose inside of him as he had never felt before. The pit of his stomach ached, and his heart clenched in his chest. He never wanted to let go of the boy - never wanted to leave his side. Newt wished that he could be touching him forever. 

So, yeah. He liked boys. Or... _this_ boy.  

The feelings didn’t seem to be surface level. The feelings were there, buried deep within Newt, raging like a fire. He knew that. He could feel the distant heat of them, although he couldn’t quite grab hold to see exactly what they were. The feelings that he felt for Thomas were overwhelming already, but knowing that most of it was buried deep down made him realize that he must feel a million times more passionate for the boy. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how all of those feelings would feel if they crashed down all at once. He already felt so overwhelmed. 

He knew that he had to have been in love with him. 

No, scratch that. Newt knew that he was in love with Thomas. There was absolutely no way that he wasn’t. The feeling was buried deep, but it was there. _Without a doubt._

He felt a connection and warmth with the other boys', sure, but Thomas was different. There was a fire raging inside of him, simply at the thought of him. There was nothing else to think about when it came to Thomas. 

Newt couldn’t take his eyes off of him. As soon as he had taken the cuffs off, Thomas had fallen asleep comically fast. Newt could feel Thomas’s eyes on him before he did so, though, and Newt couldn’t help but blush. He wondered if Thomas couldn't take his eyes off of him, either. 

He wondered if Thomas felt the same about him too. 

Everything Thomas had said when he first saw him must have meant something. He had asked him to kill him when he had seen him. Thomas obviously thought that it wasn’t really Newt standing in front of him. He had obviously thought that it was a trick of his mind. 

_“I can finally be with you, Newt. Finally.”_

The way that Thomas spoke, and the way that Thomas looked at him, Newt knew that his supposed death had ripped the boy apart. He had obviously been in immense pain for months. The looks that the rest of the boys’ gave him as well confirmed that they had gone through hell as well, but Thomas...that was something insanely different. There was something broken in the back of his eyes, as if none of this could ever make sense. 

_“I can’t breathe without you, Newt.”_

And the necklace with the note? Newt didn’t dare read the whole thing yet..not in front of all those people. Even if he hadn’t read it yet, though, he could tell that it was an intense letter. He couldn’t imagine how much it meant to Thomas for him not even let his best friend touch it. 

 _“But you know it’s different with…”_ The boy, Frypan, had said. What did that mean? What could he have meant? 

The way that Newt seemed to know exactly when Thomas was struggling was something that proved how close they had once been, too. It was something as simple as a look, and Newt knew what he had to do. He knew exactly when he needed to step up and say something.  _Do something._

Newt knew that there were a million memories, just out of his reach, and he wanted to remember every single one.

Newt had had hundreds of dreams the past few months. He had dreams about the most mundane things, and also the most tragic. He always wondered if they were memories, although now he was almost positive that they were. Even if people were in those dreams, the faces in them were always just out of sight. Even so, he was sure that all of these boys’ were the ones in them. There was no way that they weren't. 

And the feeling that one specific person left in his heart when they appeared in his dream was the same he felt with right now with Thomas.

 

-

 

Thomas woke to a soft touch on his wrists. Half awake, his eyes fluttered open. It had to be morning already, since Thomas felt very rested. The small window emitted only darkness, though. Since he was half asleep, it took a while for Thomas to realize what was going on. He was still very disoriented from his deep slumber. 

Newt was slowly locking the handcuffs back on his wrists. Newt was leaning over him in the dark, trying to be as gentle as he could, his lean fingers slowly brushing against his skin. Thomas couldn’t see his features at all because of the dark, and he was only able to see a blob of Newt’s shape. Newt must have realized that he had woken, though, because there was a deep breath. 

“Sorry,” Newt muttered softly, lean fingers still working at his wrist. One cuff was on now, extremely cold, although it was so loose that it didn’t hurt. Harriet wouldn't have been happy. “My shift is over. I’m about to wake up Sonya.” 

Thomas didn’t say anything. He kept his eyes on the Newt sized blob above him. Newt couldn’t see in the darkness either, and he had been leaning down quite a lot in order to put the cuffs on properly. He pulled the other cuff closed as well, and Thomas was trapped once more. He had barely closed them, though, and they hung loose around his wrists. Although the cuffs were already on, Newt stayed hunched over him for a few moments. 

“Are you awake?” 

Newt was so close to him that Thomas felt his soft breath fan against his face. So many memories swarmed to the surface of his mind. Thomas’s throat tightened. 

“Yes.” 

There was a pause. 

“Are they too tight?” 

“No,” Thomas muttered in the darkness. Newt still didn’t move. “Thank you.” 

Another hesitation. Thomas realized that last night, he had fallen asleep before he could say anything to Newt. Before he could say anything to comfort him. He was already failing at his second chance. 

“Newt,” he whispered, the name foreign on his tongue after not being able to use it for so long. He heard Newt take a deep, sharp breath above him. “Everything’s going to be ok.” 

Newt paused for a moment. 

“I truly hope so,” he muttered back, slowly rocking backward and standing so he could shuffle across the room. 

Newt’s scent stayed, despite him moving away from Thomas. When he came back, Thomas was already more than half asleep once again. He was emotionally and physically drained from the crazy day, and he was having a hard time trying to stay awake. He had planned to comfort Newt a bit more, besides being shit at it, but he couldn’t even seem to be able to open his mouth. 

Newt slid under the covers next to him, and now Thomas could feel his body heat. The sensation of him laying next to Newt, being close in the dark, caused tears to spring into his eyes. He never thought he would feel this again. The whole day, everything that happened, was worth it. Even if this wasn’t his Newt, the fact that he was alive was enough. 

The man that he loved was alive. 

Thomas began drifting off to sleep at the sound of Newt’s even breathing. Newt, laying on his back, was only about a foot away from him. Although he was physically close, Thomas felt miles away from him in the dark room. 

Laying this close brought back memories of The Facility. Laying this close after never thinking he would be able to again made his heart ache and his mouth run dry. He could never lose Newt again. Even though technically he was just a stranger to him now, he couldn’t lose him. He wouldn't ever be able to recover from that. He was already permanently broken from losing him the first time. 

As sleep overtook him, he imagined that they were back in The Facility. He pretended as if he had just crawled into Newt’s bed on the second night as everyone fell asleep. He imagined the way Newt’s hair was messy and he was half asleep - adorable in those fluffy socks of his. 

He knew he was dreaming in this moment, overwhelmed in the nice memory, just like that time under the stars in The Scorch. Back then, in his dream, he got a kiss. But that was the old Newt. That was his Newt. That was another lifetime. In this dream, he just wanted to close the distance. 

Since the mattresses were pushed together in real life, it was easy for him to imagine that it was possible to roll over onto his side and close the distance between him and Newt. It was easy to imagine him pressing his forehead against the blondes upper arm, just like old times. In his dream, he felt his arm wrap around Newt’s bicep and hold on tight. His heart, in his dream, pounded wildly in his chest, as if it was about to leap out. Thomas was used to having vivid dreams, especially when he thought Newt was dead, but he knew he would never get used to it. 

In another universe, somewhere out there, none of this happened. In that universe, they were together once more and happy. 

That’s the universe his heart belonged in. 

His forehead was pressed firmly against Newt’s arm, while his hand was feeling the bare skin at his bicep. The simple contact was enough to make his dream one of pure bliss - of a comfort that he hadn't felt in months. It was the only true comfort that he had been able to feel in this hell of a world. It felt as if this was the universe that he was supposed to be in instead. This was what he had been dreaming about for months. He was finally able to act on it in this dream. 

Unknowing to Thomas, Newt’s heart was leaping out of his chest as well. Thomas, snuggled up in his blanket and curled against his side, was enough for all of his thoughts to be confirmed. This felt too natural to be a first time thing. The skin to skin contact was something that he didn’t know he had been craving, but the way his whole body and mind relaxed made it obvious that it was what he needed. 

Thomas’s messy brown hair looked soft. The boy was so warm and soft looking overall, that Newt couldn't help but think of how adorable he was. He was _definitely_ adorable. He was stealing his heart by each passing second. 

Newt wanted to reach out and touch him. He wanted to turn on his side, wrap an arm around this gorgeous boy’s waist, and pull him closer. He wanted to plant a kiss on those beautiful lips, and stroke the side of Thomas’s face as Thomas nuzzled into the touch. He wanted to be the reason for his smile, and the reason for his warmth at night.

Newt reached across his own chest, fingers gently finding purchase of Thomas's hand. The flames ignited once more, and his soul soured. He gently interlocked their fingers, careful not to wake Thomas up.

Yes, this was definitely a familiar feeling. The way his whole body relaxed made sleep find him easily and peacefully.

In all his time that he could remember, he never felt so at home.  

The feelings that hid under the surface surged forward. None escaped - but they were definitely getting closer. They were fighting against whatever barrier was holding them back, and they were fighting hard. The feelings were intense and overwhelming, leaving Newt’s head spinning and his stomach tightening to knots. 

He was still in love with Thomas.

 

**11:57 AM**

 

Thomas slept in for quite a while. When he finally woke, the sun was shining and bright. The room was almost empty - only Gally remaining with him. The boy had his cuffs off, and was laying down on his stomach a few mattresses down from Thomas. Thomas glanced down, realizing that his cuffs were off as well. The fact that he had slept through someone taking them off was mind blowing. He had never been a heavy sleeper - unable to be due to the surprises that were always lurking around the corner in this world. He must have been extremely exhausted. 

“Why are our handcuffs off?” Thomas asked, slowly sitting up and rubbing his eyes. His wrists were still aching slightly, and very red. He was also still wearing his boots, jeans, and jacket. He felt dirty and worn out. 

He wished the dream had been real last night. It felt as real as the kiss under the stars. 

He wished his dreams would stop being so vivid and easy to remember. He wouldn't ever be able to heal if he kept dreaming of things that could never happen in real life. 

Gally looked over at him with those bright colored eyes, rolling over onto his back. He looked very lazy, almost as if he had just woken up as well. His short hair was ruffled and unkept. 

“There was a huge argument,” Gally explained, shrugging. His voice was heavy with sleep. “They all went outside to talk. I’m surprised you slept through all the yelling.” 

“Arguing about what?” Thomas asked, catching sight of a pile of clothes at his feet. Without thinking, without asking for permission, he quickly started taking off his boots. He very badly wanted to change his socks. 

“Newt was upset about us being all chained up. He wasn’t happy at all. I’ve never heard him yell like that,” Gally sighed, and Thomas raised his eyebrows. Newt yelling? “They finally agreed to have us uncuffed, but we’re still their prisoners apparently.” 

“Where is everyone?” Thomas asked as he pulled off his boots and socks. He slipped on the fresh socks, sighing in relief. He kept his boots off, his feet aching from being trapped all night. He wiggled them around on the ground, a weight lifting off his shoulders. His wrists still hurt like hell, but he was happy that they were no longer necessary. 

“They went to grab our Jeep and supplies. They said we’re showering tomorrow, by the way. Thank god.” 

Thank god was right. Thomas felt filthy. 

The smell of food reached his nose, and his stomach rumbled in response. He heard the sound of Frypan laughing outside, and couldn’t help but smile just a bit.

Everything would be okay.

It had to be. 

 

**7:48 PM**

 

Everyone that had stayed here at camp was becoming uneasy, the group grabbing the Jeep taking  _so long_. Thomas’s mind was coming up with worst case scenarios the whole time, the thoughts raging from bad to world shattering. 

They had built a fire, the sun falling very early in the day. It was a colder night, and they had all brought out sleeping bags so they could sit around the warmth. Thomas hoped they could sleep outside tonight. It felt lovely next to the campfire. 

Aris was a cool guy, actually cracking a few jokes and asking about stories of their travels. Aris, Fry, Gally and Thomas were getting along very well. There was only one other person with them, though.

Teresa was insanely quiet the whole time. She kept her eyes cast downward and didn’t say a word as she helped them prepare for the campfire. Thomas couldn't help but notice how  _skinny_ she looked. 

Thomas understood, partially of course, why she did what she did. He didn’t hate her half as much as he did a week ago. They had Minho, they had Newt...thanks to her help. Although she put them in awful situations, she managed to help get them out of it. She also had helped burn WCKD to the ground, so that counted as something. He could tell that everyone except Aris had begun to forgive her as well. They would even thank her when she handed them supplies, and not avoid her like the plague. Fry was a bit more hesitant than Gally, having been betrayed by her in The Scorch, but he kept his good guy manners for her anyway. 

Even though his thoughts were slowly changing, Thomas wasn’t ready to go out of his way and talk to her. They weren’t friends. He doubted that they ever could be. 

The sound of a Jeep in the distance caused everyone to quickly look up. They sat around the campfire, on their sleeping bags, and listened to the sound as it came closer. Aris, standing up, grabbed a gun off the ground that Thomas hadn’t seen before. 

Right. No matter how well they were getting on - they were still their prisoners. He had completely forgotten. 

The familiar green Jeep pulled into view, going very slow. It rolled to a stop near the fire, right next to Thomas. It was an eery deja vu, as that is exactly where he had slept every night in The Scorch. He could see Harriet driving, which was pretty comical due to the fact that she could barely see over the steering wheel. Minho was in the front seat, the only “prisoner” in the car. The engine was killed, and everyone shuffled out. 

Thomas exhaled a breath that he didn't know he had been holding. Relief filled every inch of his being. 

“Took you long enough!” Fry exclaimed, standing up and walking over to them to slap a hand on Minho’s back. Minho didn’t look half as stressed as the previous night. He even looked...a bit relieved. He began talking to Frypan with a slight smile on his face, when Newt stepped out of the Jeep behind him. Thomas’s eyes, of course, snapped quickly away from Minho. 

Newt’s eyes met Thomas’s. He gave him a small, hesitant smile that made Thomas’s brain fizzle out. Thomas returned it. Newt glanced away then, moving to walk around the campfire and toward Aris. 

Ignoring the bubbling feeling of - why is he automatically walking to _Aris?_ \- he walked over to Minho. 

“What happened? Everything go alright?” 

Minho gave him a smile. He reached out and slapped an open palm against Thomas’s shoulder. His short hair was a bit ruffled, and he looked tired, but he seemed to be in an overall good mood. It was nice to see his best friend in a much better mood. That's all he could ever want for him.

“Everyone was great. They’re pretty nice." Minho gave Thomas a small smile. "And that is _definitely_ our Newt.” 

Heart sinking in his chest, he ignored the last comment. “Aris was really cool, too.” 

“Even though we’re still prisoners,” Gally muttered sulkily from behind them, appearing almost out of nowhere. Minho sighed, and Frypan made a noise of agreement. 

“Not really,” Minho said, his mouth twisting in thought. His eyebrows furrowed, and his voice lowered drastically. “It seems like they’re saying that, now, to make us stay for Newt. They didn’t have a gun on me at all. I think they’re scared that if we are free to leave, we will, and...hurt him again. You know? They really care for him.” 

No one spoke for a moment. It made sense. They were protective over their friend. They had known him for months, and obviously cared deeply for him. 

“They’re not letting us go anytime soon, though,” Minho muttered, voice lowering even more and glancing around at the four people behind Thomas and Gally. “I heard Harriet talking about the Safe Haven. She doesn’t trust it. She thinks we might send people after them if we go back.” 

“I don’t think they realize -” Gally began, but was cut quickly off. 

“Are you hungry, Minho?” A familiar voice asked behind them, making all four boys’ jump. Newt had appeared around the Jeep, out of Minho’s sight. He held a small plate of what looked like rice mixed with vegetables. His hair, like Minho’s, looked slightly ruffled and messy from the ride. Thomas yearned to reach out and run his fingers through his soft, short locks.  

As if Newt could sense that he was thinking about him, his eyes slid from Minho to Thomas. As soon as their eyes met, Thomas’s breath catching in his throat, Minho spoke up once more. Newt broke the trance he held on Thomas, and looked back at Minho. 

“Yeah, thanks man.” Minho reached out and grabbed the plate, smiling at Newt. The group dispersed, everyone going back to their sleeping bags. There was no way that they could talk in private anymore. They would have to wait for some other time. As Thomas sank back into his sleeping bag, he realized with a heavy heart that Newt had gone to sit on a sleeping bag next to Aris. 

Of course he wouldn’t sit next to him. That was what the old Newt would do. Not this one. 

The constant worry all day, and now this realization, left him mentally drained. Thomas slowly sank down into the sleeping bag, now laying on top of it. He really didn’t want to talk with anyone right now. He wanted to fall asleep and hopefully forget everything. Of course, his nightmares never let him forget. 

How sad. 

Minho had sat next to him, eating on his sleeping bag. Thomas didn’t see him glance down at him with worry. He knew _exactly_ why Thomas was acting the way he was. He wished that he could tell Thomas that Newt had been sneaking a few questions about him the whole time they were gone. He wished that Thomas could eventually find peace. That's all he could ever want for him. 

“Newt,” Minho spoke up, turning back to look at the blonde across the campfire. “You should tell them what you told me, about your dreams.” 

Thomas didn’t glance up, although his interest returned.

Dreams? What dreams? 

“So you have dreams that you think are memories, right?” Minho continued, trying to press the subject. 

“I guess so,” Newt said, his voice never ceasing to have an overwhelming effect on Thomas. He wanted to hear it for the rest of his life. “I mean, there are always people there, which I assume are you guys. It’s just that your faces have always been just out of my reach - just blurry enough that I couldn’t see who it is.” 

“Well tell us some of your dreams!” Fry exclaimed, laughing. "We'll tell you if they're real."

Newt did. Thomas listened to a bunch of glade stories. A bunch of funny, random and little memories that didn't matter much. It was a lot of dreams, or “memories” that didn’t include Thomas. Obviously, these boys’ had known each other for many more years, but the ache was still present in Thomas’s chest. 

As they spoke, Thomas quickly realized that those _were_ memories. The boys’ were all confirming that the small things that he had dreamt about were real. They were not anything important, just a dish that Fry had made, or a plants that he had planted with Gally, but they were something. Everyone was becoming very excited.

Well, except Thomas.  

He was happy for the rest of the boys’, of course, but it was hard hearing about everyone but him. He knew, though, that the boys' were overwhelmed with emotions at the realization that Newt remembered some things about his best friends. 

Suddenly, the conversation began to get a bit deeper. 

“I remember the scene changing... the setting changing. Out of nowhere, we were out here. My dreams became a lot more scary then.” 

“It changed relatively quick,” Minho agreed, his voice right above Thomas. He suddenly sounded sad. “We didn’t have much time in between.” 

“I wanted the pointless dreams back,” Newt agreed, laughing. His laugh send a ache through Thomas's chest. He closed his eyes, relishing in the sound of the laugh. “They got pretty terrifying. Let’s not talk about that, though. Doesn’t matter anymore.” 

“It doesn’t,” Fry agreed, sighing. “That’s all done with.” 

“Which one of you was it,” Newt suddenly spoke up, his voice sounding far away all of a sudden. “That I sat with, in a bunk?” 

Thomas’s heart sank to his stomach. 

“I can’t place where I was, I don’t know if anyone else was there. I just remember getting off my bunk and going onto someone else’s. I was really, _really_ scared being in that place. I'm really thankful for whoever it was who made me feel more safe.” 

There was a pause amongst the group. It seemed to stretch on forever. Newt took the moment to speak up once more, sounding very hesitant. 

“It was probably just a dream. Sometimes some things are so... _different_ that they seem out of place. The person who I was with that night is the same person who always slept at my side at night. I didn’t go a night without sleeping next to them in the Scorch.” 

“Thomas,” Frypan said, almost out of instinct. “That was Thomas.” 

There was a moment of silence. The air had shifted once more. 

Thomas’s brain seemed empty, as if he couldn't even form a single thought. 

 _He remembered him._  

Thomas had to remind himself that even if he remembered small, vague things, Newt would never remember everything. He would never remember the small moments, and the amazing things that happened in between them. This Newt could never remember feelings or thoughts. 

“ _Ah,”_ Newt said, as if he had reached some kind of understanding. His voice became shaky and hesitant. “There were a lot of those dreams with you, then, Thomas. I have a lot of memories with you.” 

Thomas didn’t move in his sleeping bag. He didn’t turn to look at Newt’s face. He didn’t acknowledge him. 

He didn’t have memories with this Newt. He didn’t. 

Since he hadn’t acknowledged anything, no one spoke to him again. They seemed to sense that that was something Thomas was having a hard time with.

The conversation turned light again then, and Thomas pretended to sleep. 

Although Thomas was unable to sleep, everyone else seemed to fall asleep about two hours after that. The conversations had died down, and everything became quiet once more. It had been nice to hear how carefree and happy his friends sounded, and how well they started to get along with the new people. Thomas lay there in the darkness as everyone else slept, looking up at the mountains, when the shift of rocks sounded across the campfire. His eyes snapped toward the sound, his mind switching automatic panic. Random noises in The Scorch were never good. 

It was Newt. He slowly stood, without a word, and walked over. Thomas watched his boots approaching, before they stopped only about two feet from him. Newt settled his sleeping bag down, hair almost flopping into his eyes, and rolled it out next to Thomas. He was on his left side, just like he always had been. The creepy deja-vu hit Thomas hard once more. Newt crawled into the sleeping bag, pulling the blanket up to his chin, but didn’t say a word. He sat upright, silence setting over them. 

Thomas could feel eyes on him. 

“Thomas?” The voice was quiet - so quiet that he knew Minho, who was asleep next to him, couldn’t hear. The voice, _that voice,_ cut his heart in half. His eyes almost closed once more, pain running so deep in his heart that he couldn’t handle it.  

“Thomas…” Newt trailed off, sounding a bit lost and hesitant. “Can I ask you something?” 

Thomas felt himself nod. He heard a sigh of relief from Newt. Thomas was acknowledging him, and that’s all that he could ask for. 

“Are you mad at me? For not being able to remember?” 

“No,” Thomas admitted quickly, hearing the word come out without hesitation. He slowly sat up - slowly turned to look at Newt. Newt looked sad - looked very  _guilty._ That expression fell from his face, though, when they locked eyes. His features were suddenly soft, and full of relief. Thomas wanted to run his fingertips against his soft cheek. He wanted to close the distance. “I’m not.” 

There was another silence. They sat there in the dark, looking at one another. The firelight danced across Newt's face, so beautiful and pure. Newt was studying his face, as if searching for something. Looking at Newt for this long was heartbreaking. He wanted to reach between them - close the distance like he had dreamt last night. 

“Did everyone else know?” Newt whispered, his voice shaky and hesitant. Those chocolate eyes swept over his face, as if he was still looking for some sort of answer. The question took Thomas by surprise. His eyebrows raised.

“Know what?” Thomas whispered back, genuinely curious. “Are you talking about what happened in The Glade? I don't know what happened. Minho was-” 

Newt shook his head, cutting Thomas off. He looked...hesitant. He looked as if he was unable to put together the words. His chocolate eyes suddenly shifted away from Thomas’s, as if he couldn’t bare to look at him. He raised the blanket higher, tucking it under his chin, as if he wanted to disappear. He looked like a small child. The slight breeze of The Scorch lifted his hair gently around his hair - cheeks pink from the cold. Thomas wanted to pull him close and warm him.

“I mean...how long were we together?” 

The words seemed to slap Thomas across the face. He couldn’t help the gasp that tore through his throat. Newt glanced up at him with those big doe eyes, curious as to why Thomas had reacted the way he had. 

_Had he been that obvious?_

Embarrassment and guilt ran through him. Newt had obviously seen his feelings - had obviously put together that Thomas felt differently about him than everyone else. He had to feel pressured by Thomas’s feelings, assuming he had the same, even though he didn’t. 

He was probably so confused and scared. 

Thomas's guilt started to overtake him. Without answering, Thomas scrambled up and stalked off, practically sprinting away from everyone. He was still in his socks, covering them with dirt, but he had to get away from this moment. He wanted to run into the night and never return. 

“Thomas, wait a second-” He heard Newt scrambling up, the sleeping bag rusting and scratching, and then the sound of his boots against the dirt. 

Newt, always faster than him, caught up quickly. Newt reached out to grab Thomas's arm as he entered the circle of trees. They had left the group completely behind, and out of view. Yanking his arm free, ignoring the warmth that filled him with his touch, Thomas finally turned to face the blonde. Both boys were heaving deep breaths, eyes locked on one another. This moment was much different than it had been a moment ago. 

“Please just...wait. I need to know.” 

Thomas shook his head, unable to speak. He took a deep breath, unable to believe what was happening. Newt, looking hesitant once more, took one as well. 

“Was there...something between us? Something that was... different than with everyone else.” Thomas’s breathing, although ripping through his lungs, ceased. The silent night hung around them, and Thomas wanted to be swallowed along with it. He wanted to disappear. Newt continued, peering at Thomas with sadness in his eyes. His voice was pleading. “Were we something?”

That shut Thomas off immediately. The world stopped spinning around him.

“No,” Thomas breathed out, his throat constricting. His eyes were welling with tears, and at the sight, Newt’s expression became worried and heartbroken. He took a step forward, reaching for Thomas once more in the darkness.

“Stop,” Thomas whispered, recoiling away from Newt's hand. Thomas backpedaled, disappearing deeper into the forest, and left Newt standing alone and staring helplessly after him. 

 

**In The Scorch**

**3:29 PM**

 

It was the day after Thomas had caught Newt pleasuring himself, and he couldn’t look him in the eye.

They were on duty to wash their clothes in the small lake near the campsite where they had brought the water from to bathe yesterday, and Thomas was doing everything in his power to try and move as quickly as he could. He was clumsy, but moving extremely quickly. Newt was carrying huge trash bags full of dirty clothes, while Thomas was walking ahead of him, carrying a big empty barrel. They were clambering over huge rocks, but somehow Thomas was going much faster than the blonde, despite Newt being more coordinated. 

“Why are you walking so fast?” Newt grumbled behind him, his low voice sending shockwaves up and down Thomas’s spine. “I hate this job too but it’s _hot_ today.” 

It was. He was sweating heavily continuously. Thomas, though still didn’t slow down, and Newt sighed behind him. He then… _whined_ Thomas’s name, and Thomas almost imploded. He had to stop and wait for Newt then, standing clumsily on a huge rock, as his legs begun to shake intensely. He was sure he wouldn’t be able to move from this rock for millions of years.

_Why did he have to whine like that?_

Newt had whined last night when he pulled at his own hair, and Thomas hadn’t been able to get that sexy sound out of his mind.

And Newt whining his name? 

His poor legs. 

Newt finally caught up, stopping on his own huge rock next to Thomas. Thomas glanced up at his friend, the sun glowing behind Newt’s head as he sent Thomas a lazy smile. His lips - with that _smile -_ were pink and tempting. His hair was illuminated in the sun again, looking like the halo it always was, and his skin glowed like honey.  He looked soft and tempting. 

He looked like an absolute _angel._  

Thomas had never wanted to kiss him more than he did right now. 

Thomas actually had to take a step back on his rock to control himself, shaking his head slightly. Newt laughed at his motion, looking up for a moment into the sun. 

“I know. It’s intense, huh? This bloody place. Come on, we’re almost there.” 

He thought he was being affected by the _sun._  

They had parked as closely to the lake as they could, even though still quite far, since the huge rocks surrounding the lake weren’t too inviting to the wheels of their car. The lake was already in their vision, and they were _pretty close_...although to Thomas’s weak legs, they seemed miles away.  

Newt started walking first this time, and that didn’t help Thomas's situation at all. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of the boys back, the thin shirt being pulled slightly by his wide shoulders. He couldn’t stop staring at the blondes legs, long and lean - being hugged tightly by the jeans that he was wearing. Thomas couldn’t stop staring at his _butt - for God’s sake! -_ that was being cupped perfectly by those tight fitting jeans. Newt, despite having a lean frame, surprisingly had a very perky butt.  

Thomas desperately wanted to reach out and grab hold of it. 

He was grateful that Newt couldn’t see him straining against his jeans. He felt light headed and dizzy. His shaking legs were comical as they tried to clumsily clamber over the big rocks. How was he so hard over just the back of someone? Who was fully clothed?! Thomas blamed Newt’s actions from last night. He had obviously triggered some sort of hormonal teenage boy reaction in Thomas’s head. That was it. 

As the thought passed through his head, Newt adjusted the trash bags over the other shoulder, causing the muscles in his back to move under the thin material. 

Thomas slipped on the rock underneath him, not able to catch his footing on time, as he was too distracted. He landed hard on his butt, his jaw snapping shut from the rough motion. He was grateful, at least, that he hadn't accidentally bitten his tongue. The barrel bounced on the rock next to him with a clang, and began rolling all the way down the rocks and to the lake. Thomas watched it helplessly. 

Newt spun around, eyes wide. It took him a millisecond to drop the bags, and quickly clamber his way over to Thomas with a worried expression. He must have been a bit worried at Thomas’s expression, as it was probably of pure shock. Newt rarely saw Thomas this way.

Thomas was _embarrassed._ He had just fallen onto his ass because of Newt’s _back?_  

How was he ever going to be able to control himself? What was happening to him?

He forced a laugh, signaling that he was okay, as Newt crouched onto the rock in front of him. Their eyes now leveled, Newt reached out and placed a hand on his knee, worry taking over his face. He looked so handsome in this light, and Thomas wanted to reach out and touch that soft skin.

“What’s wrong with you, Tommy?” Newt laughed, although his eyes looked deep with worry. “Are you okay?” 

 _No!_ Thomas wanted to shout, his eyes unable to help but zero in on the blondes hand on his knee. How would he be able to stop his raging hard-on if Newt was touching him?  

“A bit embarrassed...and a sore ass. But overall ok,” Thomas breathed, forcing another laugh. He wanted Newt to take his hand off of his knee, but he didn’t. The blonde was even leaning over a bit, so that their faces were relatively close. Newt laughed at his statement, a huge grin taking finally up his face. Thomas’s heart leaped to his throat, making it impossible to breathe. He was grateful for the change in his worry. The sun hit the blonde perfectly, and illuminated every inch of his face. 

Although, of course, this boy was the sun himself. 

“You need to be more careful,” Newt said, pretending to scold him. His face twisted into one of mock anger. He even pouted slightly, and Thomas had to dig his hand into the rock, having something to distract himself from looking at those pink lips. Newt’s hand finally left Thomas’s knee...only to reach up to his face. Newt suddenly cupped Thomas’s cheeks with his soft hands, lean fingers curling around his jaw. Feeling his warm hands slide against his face made him lean into the touch automatically. 

Thomas’s heart stopped. 

“Okay?” 

Thomas couldn’t register what was happening. 

“Okay, Tommy?” Newt repeated, still faking his scolding. Thomas could see his pouting lips in the peripheral of his vision, but he didn’t dare sneak a peek. He would _not_ be able to control himself if he did, and he knew it. He would lean forward and kiss him, and he _knew it._ He kept his eyes on Newt's. 

“Okay,” Thomas whispered, eyes still locked onto fake angry chocolate ones. He could seem to make out the small patterns in Newt's eyes, and wished he could somehow draw them. He wanted to be close enough to look at them for the rest of his life. 

At the word, Newt dropped the fake anger act and smiled once more. All too soon, the warmth of his hands were gone, and he was walking back toward the trash bags that he had dropped in his haste to get to Thomas. Thomas was grateful for how fast he had moved to get to him. 

“Well I guess you don’t have to carry yours, as it’s already there,” Newt teased with a laugh, gesturing to the barrel down near the lake as Thomas stood. He wiped his hands on his jeans, and let out another fake laugh. From embarrassment, his hard on was now gone, and he was able to walk much more efficiently now. He didn’t dare look up at Newt as they began walking again, though, in fear of slipping once more. 

They got to work relatively fast. As soon as they reached the barrel near the lake, they filled it up to the brim with soap and water and began to wring out their clothes in the lake. It was a gross process, as it was everyone's clothes, and it was always best to do it as quickly as possible. Thomas, though, seemed to try to break their unknown speed record. He moved quickly, as if the clothes were burning into his hands. Newt, unknown Thomas, kept glancing at him curiously. 

They rinsed the clothes first in the lake water, attempting to get as much dirt off as possible, before dumping them into the barrel. As soon as they were done, and it was time to sit back and wait, Thomas began trying to act as normally as possible. Newt, though, seemed to sense something different in Thomas. 

Or, well, maybe he caught the fact that Thomas wouldn’t look at him. 

“Thomas,” Newt whined playfully, walking over to where Thomas was already sitting. He reached down, still standing above Thomas and poked the brunettes cheek repeatedly. “What’s wrong?” 

Thomas was sitting on the edge of the lake, watching the barrel as if it would magically start moving on its own. Newt's knees were at his eye level, and he reached out to poke it. Newt moved his leg away, a smile on his face. Thomas swatted at his knee.  

“What do you mean?” Thomas asked, trying to sound as innocent as possible. He playfully swatted the blondes hand away from his face as Newt reached down again, rewarding him the sound of a world shattering laugh. “What’s with you touching my face today?” 

His tone was teasing, and Newt caught on quickly. Newt sank down next to Thomas, sitting on the lake’s shore next to him. “So what? Something wrong with that?” 

Thomas laughed at his tone, and had to swat away the blondes hand once more as it reached out to him again. “I didn’t say that.” 

“Then let me touch them,” Newt whined playfully, turning his body toward Thomas to gain better access. He lifted his other arm, both hands ready to attack his cheeks. Thomas, without thinking, playfully reached a hand back into the lake and scooped up a handful of water before tossing it at Newt’s chest. 

There was a gasp from Newt, then silence. Thomas’s eyes - wide with shock at his stupid decision - weren’t half as wide as Newt’s. The shocked expression quickly fell from the blondes face, and terror gripped Thomas at the smirk that suddenly took up his face instead. He was ready for revenge. 

“Oh, you’re going to pay for that.” 

 _“No!”_ Thomas screeched, scrambling to his feet. He took about one step before he felt arms wrap around his waist and drag him backward. He gasped at the feeling of Newt’s hands on him, sliding against his bare skin as his shirt accidentally lifted. Newt yanked him toward him, surprisingly strong. Thomas knocked into Newt's chest, head falling against his shoulder, and Newt began to tickle him.  

Thomas didn’t remember ever being tickled, but he knew it was _not_ something that he enjoyed. Terror gripped into him, despite the laughing coming from his mouth, as Newt’s fingertips worked gently at his sides. Thomas began gasping for air. Newt's fingers were still grazing against his bare torso, and he was blushing like no one's business. “I wasn’t thinking! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! _Please!"_  

“Oh well!” Newt yelled, chuckling into his ear. Their faces were brushing against each other as Thomas squirmed, still being held against his strong chest. The feeling of their faces touching was so foreign, but so _amazing._ The blush on Thomas's face deepened, but he didn't dare move away. He could feel Newt's laugh against his body. “You are -” 

Thomas couldn’t take it. The tickling was the worst thing he had ever felt. He knocked his body into Newt, hearing the boy gasp, as they both fell to the floor on side of the lake. Thomas landed on top of Newt, crushing him, as they barely missed the rocks. Before Newt could resume his tickling, Thomas grabbed onto his wrists and pinned them above his head. 

Newt wasn’t laughing any longer. His eyes were wide - pupils blown. His mouth had dropped open slightly, and his breathing became heavy. He stared at Thomas as if he had smacked him in the face. His hair was messy and looked as if Thomas had run his hands through it.

He wished. 

Thomas suddenly realized that he was halfway straddling him. He was crouching over Newt, one leg thrown over his waist. He was putting more weight on his left side, so he wasn’t sitting on him, but _damn_ he was close. Their body heat was intense. At the sight, Thomas loosened his grip on Newt’s wrists in shock. He couldn't believe how close they were. 

It was the wrong move. 

Thomas yelped, Newt suddenly pushing him off and standing to lift him clumsily into the air. One arm wrapped clumsily around his waist, and the other attempted to lift him by wrapping an arm around his thigh. It was the quickest thing that Newt could grab as quickly as he could. 

His arm was _much too close_ to where it counted.  

Newt began dragging him to the lake, laughing like a madman. Thomas gasped once more, gripping onto Newt's shoulders in horror. Newt stared up at him, his face much too close, with a smug expression.  

“Newt we just washed ourselves!” Thomas pleaded, trying to bargain with him. He glanced back at the lake, much closer than he would have liked to be. He couldn’t even think about the rough hold that Newt had on him - how _strong_ Newt had to be in order to life him like it was  _nothing_  - due to the fact that he was terrified. He would _not_ dip him in that lake! Right?! “Come on, you can’t do this!” 

“You’re right. We just did bathe.” 

Without another word, Newt swung Thomas backward, before throwing him into the lake. 

It was pretty deep, Thomas’s feet barely brushing the bottom as he slammed into the water. It felt amazing to be dipped in the cold water - every thought in his head disappearing. It was just what he needed in this moment, to clear these thoughts from his head. When Thomas broke the surface, he heard Newt’s laughter. The sound made him smile, unable to help it. He caught sight of the blonde smiling at him from the edge of the lake.  

Thomas swam to the edge, and clambered up onto the rocks. Newt reached down and grabbed hold of his wet arm, helping him up and continuing to laugh as he did so.

The smile on Newt's face as he looked down at him was very worth the dreadful feeling of wet clothes. 

So worth it. 

 

-

 

“I like these days,” Newt muttered as they clambered into the Jeep. Thomas turned to him, eyebrows raised. The blonde wasn’t looking at him, though, eyes on the steering wheel as he brought the Jeep to life. He looked sad. 

“What days? The ones where you torture me?” Thomas teased, trying to lighten the suddenly tense mood. Newt gave a small smile at the question, Thomas's attempt working. Thomas loved seeing that smile. 

“Of course,” Newt murmured. With a big sigh, he continued. “I meant the days where we act like it is a matter of time before we find Minho...even though we only have the one lead of them transporting them in two months.” 

“That one lead will get us to him,” Thomas reassured Newt, eyes on his best friend's tense posture. He noticed that Newt was gripping onto the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckled were white. Thomas reached out and placed a gentle hand over Newt's. Neither of them spoke for a few moments, caught up in their own thoughts. 

“Do you think we will ever find Minho?” Newt suddenly asked, breaking the silence. 

“I know we will,” Thomas whispered. He rubbed a thumb against the side of Newt's hand. He paused then, deciding whether he should open up to Newt about this topic. He was always scared of appearing weak, but this was Newt. He wouldn’t judge him. 

“I think about Minho all the time,” Thomas admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. Newt glanced up at him, relief flooding onto his face. He smiled a sad smile at Thomas, looking as if he had been waiting for him to say those exact words.

“Me too.” 

It was a day that Thomas would never forget. Although the world that they lived in was a living hell, he couldn’t help but feel happiness as he watched the smile on Newt’s face, and his har glowing in the setting sun.

 

-

*warning for a lot of mature NSFW.

 

 

It was in the middle of the night, and Thomas was restless. He couldn’t sleep, and he was sure that it was already very early into the next morning. Newt’s sleeping bag was much closer to Thomas’s than it was last night, and it caused his body to vibrate in anticipation. His body was on edge, and he seemed to be very aware of every inch of his body...especially the tightness in his abdomen. He wondered if Newt would do the same as he had last night. He wondered if he would hear those intimate moans again. 

Newt was on watch, and everyone else was asleep around them. He was facing Thomas, back against the Jeep and knees up. With his legs spread like that, Thomas had to count slowly in his head to distract himself. He was pretending to be asleep once more, but the sight had left a permanent image in his head that he couldn't forget. 

Almost as if Newt had read his mind, there was a sudden sound of rustling. He swore he heard a zipper, more rustling, and then silence. 

“Thomas,” He heard Newt whisper - just loud enough for only him to hear. The simple sound of his name set shivers up and down his spine. The hard ground of The Scorch under his back seemed to press up into him painfully. The sleeping bag and the blanket seemed to weigh on his chest and suffocate him. He continued to pretend to be asleep. 

“You can watch tonight, you know.” The sound of Newt’s voice, deep and teasing, caused Thomas to gasp. He knew he had watched him last night, and he knew that he had been anticipating in tonight. He had been facing away from him the whole time, and Thomas had no idea how he could have found out. Thomas was throbbing hard in his jeans - confused and hesitant. Was this really happening? Should he continue to pretend as if he couldn’t hear him? There was no way this was really happening. 

“Look at me, Thomas,” Newt whispered, voice husky and shaky. “Watch me.” 

Thomas couldn’t contain his curiosity. He opened his eyes, and turned his head to look at Newt. The sight of what the blonde was doing had all the breath in his lungs escaping, and his mind exploding. There was _no way._  

The fire was too far away to illuminate what was in Newt’s hand, being stroked slowly. He could see that Newt’s head was tilted back, resting against the Jeep, leaving the sight of his neck exposed. His underwear was still on, though the pants were long gone and folded next to him on his sleeping bag. The size of him was shocking, the blonde’s lean frame not hinting at him being so big. His hands and feet were huge though, leaving Thomas unable to even wear his boots. He felt like a child with his shoes - clomping around clumsily from all of the free space in them. 

The sight of Newt's  _skin!_ on his bare thighs left Thomas able to feel his heartbeat in his ears. Newt’s skin was beautiful, and looked so amazingly _soft._ He wanted to run his hands up and down those thighs. He found himself wanting to trace every inch with his mouth - _with his teeth even_ \- good _God._  

Thomas felt eyes on him, even if he couldn’t see those big chocolate eyes in the darkness. The fact that Newt was stroking himself to the sight of Thomas made the tightness in his abdomen throb and twist painfully. 

“Are you hard for me, my Tommy?” Newt whispered, deep voice shaky from the pleasure he was giving himself.

“Yes,” Thomas whispered, unable to help himself. The word came out as a whimper, and Thomas heard Newt let out a soft, breathless laugh. The sound, even his teasing _laugh_ , was enough to make his whole body quiver. He felt his back muscles tensing and relaxing against the hard floor.  

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” Newt murmured. His hand had slowed to a dangerous pace, almost stopping the motion all together. Thomas was disappointed. He wanted him to continue. He wanted to soak up every moment of it. 

“Everyone’s asleep, you know.” 

Thomas had to take a deep, long breath. Words escaped him. His brain had stopped working - ceasing to let a single thought form. The whole atmosphere outside had changed. He had been freezing earlier, but the sheets over him were way too hot now - almost seeming to scorch his skin. He felt as if he was sweating through his clothes. The air around him was suffocating and heavy. 

Newt, slowly and cautiously, rose his body. He was now on his knees, right near Thomas’s face. His underwear was pulled up once more, and Thomas could only see him straining against his briefs. Thomas’s mouth ran dry. 

“I’m going to need you to take off those jeans,” Newt muttered, reaching out and grabbing Thomas’s jaw with those lean fingers. He forced Thomas to look at him, yanking up is jaw.

Thomas obeyed. 

He fumbled with his belt, at Newt's complete mercy, as his eyes trained on the shape of Newt’s head in the darkness. He still couldn’t see properly, but he could partially make out those intense eyes that were still staring at him. He could feel Newt’s eyes still boring into him, too. He wished he could see them properly. He fucking loved those gorgeous eyes.

He clumsily pulled down his jeans, kicking them off in a haste. The adrenaline running through his body was intense - overwhelming. His spine tingled and he was squirming under Newt’s intense gaze. 

As soon as the jeans were kicked off, Newt reached out. He pushed the blanket and sleeping bag off of Thomas, exposing him. The lack of Thomas's jeans was a welcome sensation, his hard-on straining painfully against them. Newt seemed to enjoy the sight, his neck rolling back as if a shudder had run down his spine. 

Newt carefully reached out and grabbed the inside of Thomas’s thigh. Thomas whimpered at the contact - unable to help himself. His fingertips were cold. Newt chuckled at the response, still confident, but his uneasy breathing gave away how wrecked he was. Newt pulled Thomas’s thigh closer to him, slightly spreading his legs. 

“You’re so damn gorgeous,” Newt whispered, slowly leaning forward. He placed a soft, tentative kiss in the inside of his thigh. Flames erupted throughout his body, rising and consuming his whole being. His teeth gently grazed against the soft flesh, teasing a bite. Thomas reached down, grabbing at Newt’s hair helplessly. As he tugged, Newt let out a whine. He turned his head into Thomas’s hand, desperate for more. Thomas pulled again, and Newt rose up once more. 

He pulled his body over Thomas’s, settling between his legs. The heat that rose throughout Thomas was too much to handle. Newt’s hard-on pressed into the inside of his thigh, and he squirmed at the feeling. He was so, _so hard._  

And it was all for him. 

His hands caught hold on Newt’s waist, sliding up under his light t-shirt. Newt’s skin was as soft as it looked. It was fucking _heavenly._ Thomas felt himself leaking through his underwear already. It was almost comical how undone Newt was making him, and he hadn’t even _touched_ him. Newt was consuming his whole being, invading every inch of his mind.  

Newt was holding himself up on his hands, his face finally close enough that Thomas could see him. His pupils were blown, his mouth parted - the face of someone who was absolutely _wrecked_. Thomas was sure that there was no way it was all because of him. There was no way that he was causing Newt to become undone. He could never be that lucky. 

“You’ve been driving me crazy, Thomas. You must know that, right?” Newt whispered, his soft, hot breath fanning across his face. His eyes searched Thomas’s face, studying him carefully. “And damn, you look so much better up close.” 

“You’re beautiful,” Thomas whispered, unable to help himself. His fingers dug into Newt’s sides, holding him closer. His body was warm and soft, despite the hint of muscles. “So fucking beautiful.” 

“You’re just saying that because my cock is against you,” Newt whispered, his head dipping down. His jaw knocked gently against Thomas’s as he made his descent to his neck. His soft skin felt heavenly. Newt gently trailed those soft lips against Thomas’s neck, resulting in more squirming. 

“No,” Thomas whispered. “I’m not say- _fuck, Newt.”_ Newt’s mouth had fallen open, pressing a warm kiss against the base of his throat.  

 _“Yes,”_ Newt groaned, voice full of ecstasy. “Say my name.” 

 _“Newt,”_ Thomas groaned, voice shaky. He was in the middle of saying his name again when Newt’s next motion knocked the wind out of him. Newt had rolled his hips slowly forward, causing friction of Thomas’s cock. It had been pressed against Newt’s hips, and it felt as if Newt had stroked him.  

 _“Fucking hell.”_ Thomas was only able to gasp breathlessly. It was beyond him how he was able to make any noise at all. His fingernails raked up Newt’s back, resulting in a low moan against his neck.  

Newt’s teeth grazed Thomas’s neck as he rolled his hips again, too slow - _painfully slow._ Thomas wanted him to do that again and again. He never wanted him to stop. Newt rolled his tongue against Thomas’s neck before gently sucking on the soft skin.  

Another roll of his hips - which Thomas met with his own. He pushed up his hips with the next motion, and Newt whimpered against his neck. Newt’s mouth let go of his neck, but the deep breathing on the slight wet spot rose goosebumps all along Thomas’s spine. Newt shifted his weight to one arm, his hips unfortunately moving slightly from his, and his free hand traveled slowly down Thomas’s chest. The goosebumps seemed to flare, and his neck rolled back. Newt pulled his shirt up slowly,  _teasingly,_ and ran his hand over Thomas's care chest. He shuddered under his soft touch, unable to control himself. 

“Now’s the time to tell me to stop,” Newt muttered lowly, voice still thick with lust and pleasure. The deepness in it was messing with Thomas’s brain. He seemed unable to even think. “I’m not going to hold back anymore.” 

Thomas finally gave into his want. Instead of answering him with words, Thomas rose a hand to run through the back of Newt’s hair, tugging those soft, short, locks roughly. Newt’s neck rolled back, exposing his beautiful face to him once more. Thomas leaned forwards and crashed his lips to Newt’s. 

The second their mouths met, Thomas knew he was done for. A warmth seeped deep into his bones, and put his mind at a state of ease that he hadn’t ever felt before. 

Newt’s lips were soft, warm, and intoxicating. They opened easily for Thomas, deepening the kiss without hesitation. He didn’t waste any time on innocent kisses. The heat from his mouth left Thomas’s head spinning, and his legs began to shake. He tasted _amazing._  

The kiss was very slow and extremely sensual - nothing like Thomas thought it would be. It wasn’t rough and fast - wasn’t anything rushed. It was un-arguably the most sexy thing that Thomas could ever imagine. Newt’s mouth, deeply kissing him with his lips parted for him - was other worldly. 

Newt’s tongue curled against his - hot, wet, and smooth. Thomas felt his brain fry pathetically. He was sure that he would never be able to think another coherent thought besides this moment again. He wanted that sexy tongue _everywhere_. Thomas met Newt’s tongue with his in the next moment, sliding them together in between a slow kiss.  

Thomas never imagined that playing with someone’s tongue would be sexy. The thought of it before this made the hair on the back of his neck stand up in disgust. The way that Newt slid his so, _so painfully slow_ against his, though, was teasing and seducing. The way they briefly met in between kisses made his toes curl and his back squirm pathetically.

His fingernails still dug into Newt's back, until he decided he wanted to feel more skin. He ran his hands up and down Newt's back, feeling the hint of muscles. His touches seemed to snap Newt out of a trance. Newt had become so distracted in their kissing that his hand seemed to have forgotten its path down Thomas’s body. It suddenly continued, though, and Newt had to swallow Thomas’s moan as his hand slid under his briefs. He grabbed hold of Thomas without hesitation - hand soft and warm. It was unlike anything Thomas had ever felt. 

Fuck, this whole experience was unlike anything Thomas could ever even imagine. 

Newt began stroking Thomas in an even, medium pace. Thomas’s legs pathetically shook harder, every stroke sending waves of pleasure throughout his body. He seemed to begin to vibrate with the adrenaline. Without thinking, Thomas let go of Newt’s back to return the favor. He pulled at Newt’s hair again as he pushed past his briefs and grabbed hold of the other boy. 

Newt gasped into Thomas’s mouth, the pleasure from both the hair pulling and the touch between his legs, seeming to overwhelm him. The arm that was supporting him shook intensely, almost as if he was about to fall on top of Thomas. 

Newt was soft, warm, and huge. The shadow of his cock earlier did it no justice. The width was a bit smaller than Thomas’s, but was impossibly an inch or two longer. It was heavy in his hand, and Thomas couldn’t believe that he hadn’t done this sooner. 

Touching another man’s dick for the first time wasn’t awkward at all. Thomas believed that it would be, as it was such a foreign thing to hear about. In all the time at The Glade and in The Scorch, the word “gay” had never been brought up. The same sex being together seemed to be non-existent here. In Thomas's mind, though, it didn't seem any different than heterosexual relationships. Why should there be a difference?

The fact that it was so unusual here, as if it was forbidden to even do so, made the whole situation a millions times more sexy. 

He should have done this at Janson’s Facility. He should have done this months ago. He couldn’t believe how much pleasure he was experiencing from _giving_ pleasure, and not just receiving it. The low groans that Newt was panting into his mouth were the best sound he’s heard, and they were all because of _him_.

They were all for him.  

Their strokes were matching in speed, and both boys were a squirming and shaking mess. They were both easily coming undone, the clash and curling of their tongues, and the deep kissing became sloppy and faster. Thomas only realized that he was pushing up his hips into Newt’s strokes only when he realized that Newt was doing it himself as well. 

The whole situation, one hand curled in Newt’s soft hair and one hand wrapped around his huge cock as he kissed him, caused him to become too overwhelmed too quickly.

“I’m going to cum,” Thomas gasped into Newt’s warm mouth, voice whiny and shaky. His whole _body_ was shaking. “Please don’t fucking stop, Newt.”  

“Cum for me, baby,” Newt whispered huskily into his mouth. “Be good and cum for me.” 

The pet name sent him over the edge. Newt seemed to sense exactly when he was about to explode, because at the same time as he kept up his stroking, he quickly slid down and wrapped his lips around the tip of Thomas’s cock. 

The unexpected motion caused him to have the best orgasm that he had ever had in his life. He was sure of it. 

As soon as Thomas exploded into Newt’s mouth, those big chocolate eyes looking deeply into his eyes as he did so, Thomas jerked awake. 

The sudden loss of the warmth of Newt on top of him knocked the air from his lungs. Thomas was on his stomach, gasping for air. It was still pitch black in The Scorch, and Newt lay sound asleep about two feet away. 

His intense awakening seemed to stir Newt awake. Those big brown, doe eyes slowly blinked open, looking thoroughly confused and half asleep. Newt was curled on his side, facing Thomas as always, and stared up at him curiously. His hair was ruffled from sleep, and cheeks were slightly puffy. 

As his eyes stared into his, he couldn’t help but think about those same eyes staring up at him as he unloaded into his warm mouth. 

“You okay Tommy?” 

Thomas couldn’t speak. 

Thomas had cum in his fucking pants. 

From a _dream._

 

**In The Scorch**

**1 month before the burning of WCKD/Newt's death**

**the storm**

**PART ONE**

3:47 AM

 

The weather throughout the day had been a nightmare. They all were dreading the night, a bad feeling running deep in everyone’s bones, but they never could have predicted what the night would bring. They were expecting the worst, but couldn’t imagine that anything like this would happen.

Thomas woke up from an urgent shaking of his arm. His eyes snapped open automatically, sitting up without hesitation. He briefly met Frypan's huge, worried eyes, and instantly knew that something wasn't right. Frypan spoke quickly, but clearly. He was trying his best to stay calm.

"A storm's coming, boss. It'll hit any second. Wake up Newt and get into the Jeep. Now."

Thomas lept to his feet as Frypan quickly moved to wake up the next person. He spun around to crouch down and shake Newt awake. Newt's eyes snapped open, looking up at Thomas in confusion.

Before he could speak, it was upon them. Thomas reached out and grabbed hold of Newt, losing complete sight of him in the dust engulfing them. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine’s Day! <3
> 
> I promise that the next chapter will be more fluff instead of smut, I just started writing and couldn’t stop for some reason. I apologize hahaha. Just for Valentine’s Day! 
> 
> Today is the day of love, whether you have someone or you don’t. If anyone is feeling alone today, please remember that you do not need anyone else to make yourself complete. You are you, and that is amazing and wonderful. You ARE enough. More than enough. If you want someone, your time will come, but love yourself today! <3 
> 
> Go spoil yourself today. You deserve it. 
> 
> And all the love from me to every single one of you! I’d love to be all of your valentines <3 
> 
> I have a quote from the movie “Comet” in here somewhere, and if you can find it I’ll be so proud :,) 
> 
> I’m sorry again for the long wait. The week off was much much needed. My winter semester in college is about to end, and I’ll have much more free time and I won’t be as stressed! I’m so excited to get back to writing and toontown! Haha :) 
> 
> I love you all so much. The support, ENDLESS support that I receive is mind blowing. Of course I 110% believe that you’re all just saying things to be nice and you don’t actually like the story at all, but every word that any of you write leaves me speechless. 
> 
> Every comment that you all leave makes my absolute day. I’m not kidding. I’m a blushing and sappy mess when I read your comments. Just thinking about all of your support brings tears to my eyes. 
> 
> Kudos, reads, bookmarks - in my eyes, they don’t matter as much as every single one of you. Of course I appreciate it so much, I’m so so thankful for every single person reading and giving me a kudus, but I’m not a numbers kind of girl. If I don’t have a specific amount, I’m not sad. If not many people kudos, I’m not upset. I’m just thankful and beyond shocked to have as many of you as I do here in the first place. Every single person who comments, reads, gives me a kudos, thank you. From the bottom of my heart. I wouldn’t be a writer without all of you. 
> 
> That being said, thank you for all of the support. Again and again and again. The amount of reads, comments, and kudos are mind blowing. 
> 
> I couldn’t possibly ever be more thankful. 
> 
> If anyone wants to come talk and get updates on this fic, come hang out with me on Twitter! amylovesanswer
> 
> Anyway, sorry for all that sap, I’m sorry this fic sucks and I’ll see you next week!!!
> 
> All my love,  
> amy xxxxxxxxxxx


	11. 9:55 PM

**PRESENT DAY**

 

Thomas was sitting in the dark with his back against rough tree bark, taking some time to himself. The wind in The Scorch was intense, a deep cold engulfing him from every direction. Thomas mentally scolded himself for not grabbing a jacket. He was shivering within minutes of leaving Newt. When the adrenaline wore off, the bitter cold air was waiting for him. The tears on his face seemed to freeze against his cold skin.

After he had run away from Newt, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He desperately wanted to run back and throw his arms around him - wanted to run back and apologize for everything that he had done. He wanted to apologize for leaving him that night. He wanted to run back and shake him until he remembered everything.

He wanted his Newt back more than anything in this world. He would even live out in this damn Scorch for the rest of his life if it meant that Newt could be by his side again. Even if it meant that they could only be friends for the rest of their lives, he would do it. He knew that his Newt handn't felt the same way about him, anyway. It would be easy for them to be friends. 

Thomas, while sitting in the darkness, had also come to an awful realization.

“Even though all my memories were gone, I could still feel that something was missing. I felt empty.”

When Newt had his memory swiped the first time, he couldn’t handle it. Now? He had it swiped once more. Thomas couldn’t even begin to understand how alone and scared he must have been feeling all of these past months. He had woken to a bunch of people he hadn’t recognized, and was probably feeling physically awful and sick as he recovered from The Flare symptoms. 

Newt, this time around, probably felt a million times worse than he had when he woke up in The Glade.

 Thomas felt heartbroken. How could he have not thought of this before? He had to put his feelings and emotions aside for this new Newt. There was no way he was getting the old Newt back. None of them had their memories returned from before The Glade, and this was the same as that. Newt wouldn’t remember.

After all Newt had done for him though, and after everything they had gone through, this Newt deserved all of the comfort and support that the world had to offer. He deserved everything in this world and in a million more. He deserved to never feel empty again. 

When Thomas finally made his way back to camp, too overwhelmed with the cold, he had made up his mind. He would be a friend to Newt, and only that. He would be supportive, caring, and understanding. He would back him up on anything that came their way.

And that was that. 

Thomas, despite hating it, knew that he had to push his feelings deep into the back of his mind. It was the best for Newt if he eventually forgot about them. He had to.

He lagged going back to the campsite although he was beyond cold, his whole body shaking intensely. He felt as if this was a good punishment for what he had done to Newt tonight. As he walked back, his boots crunching dead leaves under his boots, his heart ached more than his body did. 

When he reached the campsite, he realized that Newt had returned to his spot next to Aris. He had turned the sleeping bag at an angle so that his back was to Thomas. He lay curled up on his side, like always, but his body looked tense. It was obvious that what Thomas had done had hurt him in some way, and he didn’t even want to look at him.

Thomas, ignoring the way his heart broke, slipped into his sleeping bag and tried his best to sleep. 

This was all for the best.

It had to be.

 

-

 

A week passed, and Thomas acted like any another friend to Newt. He acted the same way that Minho, Gally, and Frypan acted towards him. Thomas even forced himself to be a bit more distant from him than the boys’, and Newt began to retreat slowly from him as well. Newt seemed to automatically knew what Thomas was doing, and let him.

Newt had even begun to call him “mate.” 

There weren’t any conversations between just the two of them. There weren’t any moments that they shared to themselves. It was just as if he was Minho, Gally, or Frypan. He was just another boy in The Scorch.

Thomas slept at the edge of his mattress every night, and Newt did the same. The space between them, although just a few feet away, felt like oceans away from each other.

Of course, from all of this, Thomas was hurting more than he could ever begin to explain. 

Thomas didn’t look at Newt long enough to see the same hurt mirroring in his eyes as well.

Teresa was an outsider in their small group now. All of them were getting along quite well... despite them still being prisoners, of course. Teresa was being spoken to politely by everyone, but not friendly. Of course except Fry, who always gave her a sarcastic smile. She never smiled herself anymore, and always seemed as if she wasn’t fully paying attention to anything. She looked guilty. 

Thomas was slowly forgiving her as each day passed. Every time he saw Newt, alive and healthy, he couldn’t help but feel grateful to her. Every time he saw Minho, he couldn’t help but feel slightly annoyed at her, but thankful that he was alive. She had kept him alive.

No matter how much she had messed up, she had redeemed herself in the end. Thomas wasn’t expecting that, and was sure that he would never know how to properly thank her.

 

-

 

Thomas, as he pretended to be asleep, overheard the rest of them talking. Sonya, Harriet, Aris and Newt were having a discussion inside of the small shack. He was sleeping next to the window, and could hear every word. They didn’t seem to think about the fact that he may be able to hear - or didn’t care much at all.

“I’m giving them two weeks,” Harriet muttered, voice low. She sounded tired. “If no one comes to get them in two weeks, then we let them go. They’re obviously no threat if no one comes for them.”

“And if someone comes?” Sonya asked, voice hesitant. “What happens then?”

“If they’re unarmed and don’t threaten us, then we let them go. We will have to relocate after, though. Even if they don’t seem like a threat. I don’t trust them.”

“What if they do have guns?” Aris muttered, closest to the window. “If they point them at us? Threaten us?”

“Then we threaten to shoot one of these boys’,” Harriet responded. There was a pause, and then a deep sigh. “That’s not something I would like to do. I’ve grown quite fond of them, actually. Not bad company.”

“What if they invite us back?” Newt’s voice, sounding very small and hesitant, sent an ache through Thomas’s chest.

“I highly doubt that,” Aris laughed darkly. “I mean, we kept them as prisoners. Not very friendly, right?” 

“But if they do?” Newt pressed on, sounding desperate.

“Your choice,” Harriet responded, voice uncertain. “We would sure miss you though, Newt.”

There was another pause.

“What about Teresa?” Sonya asked, breaking the silence. “What do we do with her?”

“I can’t think of anything,” Harriet admitted, still sounding uncertain. “She’s done so much for us...but the betrayal with Newt isn’t something that I'll forget.”

“And the fact that she’s in love with their leader,” Sonya laughed. Thomas rolled his eyes. Again with this shit. “She won’t shut up about him. And the way she looks at him? Gross.”

“They had to be something,” Aris laughed. “The way he looks at her with so much hate. Probably hurt like hell when she betrayed them.”

Wrong reason.

He hoped Newt didn’t believe them. 

“But he also looks at -” Aris began, but was quickly cut off by Sonya.

_“Don’t.”_

“Okay, okay whatever. I’m headed to sleep. Who’s on guard tonight? Better not be me.”

 

 

**5:47 PM**

 

The next day, Thomas was tested. 

Harriet, who is normally very distant from everyone physically, got a bit too close to Newt.

They were all sitting around the small campfire, watching Fry cook something in a small pot, when she walked up behind Newt. Seeing her so close, and seeing a hand reach out and touch his blonde hair, made the hairs on the back of Thomas's neck stand up. Harriet sank down next to Newt on the ground, sitting way too close. 

Minho had been talking, telling a story from The Glade, but stopped abruptly at the sight. As they watched, Harriet placed a hand on Newt’s knee, and leaned over to whisper something in his ear. Minho began to trip over his words, as if he was in shock.

Newt seemed very confused as to what was going on. He kept glancing at Harriet with confusion, obviously not used to the contact, but Thomas was too blinded by rage to notice. Thomas’s eyes zeroed in on the hand on Newt’s knee as her thumb began stroking it softly. The smile was still on her face as she stared at Newt, and leaned in to whisper something in his ear once more. 

Gally, Minho, and Frypan kept stealing hesitant glances at Thomas. Fry even turned around to look at Thomas, as his back was originally facing him, but Thomas didn’t notice. Thomas’s insides were burning, and he was beyond blind with rage.

Thomas had never felt this feeling before. It was like a dragon, blowing fire and roaring inside of him. There was no way to describe how the scene in front of him made his skin crawl. He felt disgusting. 

Minho turned to look at him then. He could see his best friend looking at him in his peripheral vision, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the scene in front of him. Minho shook his head softly, and spoke low.

”I’m sure it’s not what it looks like.”

At those words, Harriet laughed at something Newt had said, and leaned into the side of his body.

Thomas stood abruptly, eyes still on the two. The bowl of food that he had been holding broke into pieces in his hand. He had been gripping it so tightly that the dried clay bowl snapped in half, cutting into his hand and drawing blood. The porridge dripped down his hands, hitting the floor below.

Everyone jumped at the sudden motion, and Newt’s eyes locked with Thomas’s across the fire.  

Thomas dropped the bowl to the floor, not caring that it was covered in his blood. He turned, ignoring the pain in his hand, and walked away from everyone. He wasn’t even sure where he was going, but wanted to get far away from whatever the hell that was.

 

 

**9:55 PM**

 

When he returned, the sun was long gone. He only came back when it was too cold to manage the rough weather, stupidly forgetting his jacket once more in his haste to get away. His hand was still aching from being cut open, but he was sure that the wounds would heal in a few days. He didn’t care much about the pain, though, when his thoughts were much more painful.

Thomas had just...walked. He was lost in his mind, and wasn’t exactly sure were he had been walking for three hours, but somehow ended up back at the shack. He walked in between buildings, walked into random houses, and even lay down on one of the beds in them for a while. He didn’t care that there could be a crank around any corner - he truly didn’t care about anything. 

He went over everything that he had seen, over and over in his head, and came to many different conclusions. None of them were in his favor at all. He was driving himself insane. His thoughts were too consuming - too much to handle. He felt as if the pressure in his head was pressing into every inch of his skull, and he was unable to handle the pain. He felt claustrophobic even outside in the fresh air.

Harriet seemed to have been waiting for him. As he approached through the small gate, shoes meeting the soft dirt, he caught sight of her in the doorway. She had her arms crossed across her chest, and an unimpressed look on her face. Even in the darkness, he could tell that she was angry. He walked up to the door, not caring at all.

Although he knew it wasn’t her fault, he wanted to punch her. 

“If you run off like that again, I’ll have no choice but to-”

Thomas pushed past her without speaking - knocking his shoulder into hers as he passed by. He made a beeline for his mattress, not daring to look at the sleeping bodies on the floor. He didn’t want to see if anyone was looking at him. He hoped everyone was asleep.

In his peripheral vision, he could see the dark shape of Newt in the darkness. He was curled up on his side, like always, and facing Thomas’s mattress. This surprised Thomas, due to the fact that Newt had faced the other way every night for the past week. He ignored it, though, sitting on the edge of his mattress to slip off his boots and socks. Not caring who was watching, he slipped out of his jeans and pulled on a pair of sweatpants.

As Thomas pulled back to crawl back into bed, he realized that he felt eyes on him in the darkness. He had felt that eerie feeling as soon as he walked in, but assumed it had been Harriet. Harriet was now sitting on the porch, though, and was unable to see him.

He hoped it wasn’t Newt.

If he wasn’t so upset, he would be embarrassed of his actions. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. This Newt wasn’t his. Hell, _his_ Newt wasn’t truly his. He had never expressed that he felt the same about Thomas, and it was naive of Thomas to believe that he wouldn’t be with someone else if he had the chance. Even if his Newt had made it to the Safe Haven, he would have probably found someone else there.

He would never have been with him.

Thomas didn’t deserve him.

As he settled under the blankets, he felt the pain in his mind returning. It was unimaginable. He couldn’t ever have imagined that jealousy would hurt so much. He should be happy for Newt - happy that he had found someone who made him happy, but he wasn’t. Not at all. Not one bit.

Thomas pulled the soft blanket up over his head. He pulled it tight, taking a deep breath as he did so. He felt childish, but it felt so comforting. He had wanted to disappear for so long, and he was becoming too overwhelmed by everything. The warmth of being under the blanket helped a bit, as well as him making sure to take deep, slow breaths. The dark, lurking thought began creeping their way to the front of his mind.

Thomas wished that he wouldn’t wake up from this sleep. He wished that he could be peacefully done with this world, once and for all.

Finding Newt had pushed these feelings aside temporarily, but they had been lingering at the back of his mind. They always did. He had been sad for so long... _so fucking long_ before finding Newt.He knew the feelings would always be there. He would never be able to escape from them. They would always be waiting for him in the darkness of his mind, prowling around like wolves.

It wasn’t the fact that Newt was with Harriet. Of course, that hurt more than anything he could imagine, but it wasn’t the cause for the awful  thoughts. He wanted to find peace. He wanted to believe in some afterlife where he could live peacefully with all of his friends, and the old soul of Newt. He hoped they would all be there. He hoped _he_ was there, somewhere, waiting for him. 

The comfort of the blanket over his head didn’t last long. There was a sudden soft tug at the top, and the blanket was gently pulled away from his face. His hands let the blanket go, confused and in shock.

Thomas, eyes now uncovered, focused on the sudden sight of Newt above him. Newt had propped up on his elbow to steady himself as he uncovered Thomas. His arm hesitated on the blanket. It was too dark to see him in the darkness, and honestly, Thomas was glad he couldn’t. He could see the outline of his body, and messy hair, but that was about it. Even that sight made Thomas’s heart clench painfully.

Newt’s hand fell back to his side, but he didn’t lay back down. Thomas could feel those beautiful eyes staring at him through the darkness.

“You said we weren’t anything,” Newt muttered down at him. His voice was hesitant, and quiet. Thomas could barely hear him. 

His stomach tightened into knots.

“Look at you, Thomas.” Newt sighed. He shook his head. “I don’t believe you.”

Newt was being much more direct than Thomas could have ever expected. Newt had always been cautious - always thinking things through. He obviously was hurting, and just wanted answers. It was easy to see that the pain of losing his memories once more, and the betrayal from his friend, had affected him deeply. He didn’t seem to care about any consequences anymore. 

If Thomas wasn’t so scared of the situation, he would have been proud of him.

Thomas’s mind suddenly felt as if it was filling with water. His vision slightly blurred, and his breathing became rapid. His hands fell down to clutch onto his blanket to stop the sudden shaking that ran through them. His brain seemed to be shutting down again, just like the time in Janson’s facility. He heard the deafening rush of his heartbeat in his ears.

The sun was hiding behind the clouds in his mind once more, but there wasn’t a chance it was coming back this time. His mind had been hung in the darkness for months. He began shaking, despite being warm under his blanket.

This moment was fuzzy, but real. He felt a gentle tug on his arm, and the warmth of Newt’s body suddenly engulfed him. It lit a fire inside of him and twisted his stomach into knots. In the haze, Thomas felt an arm slip under his head.

Thomas fell into him.

Thomas curled up to Newt's side, his head burrowing into Newt’s neck. His other arm wound it’s way around Newt’s waist, and gripped pathetically at the soft material of the blondes t-shirt. The closeness was just what he had been craving for months. In this moment in time, nothing mattered. He felt reckless. The warmth of Newt in the darkness calmed his heart, and his mind. Nothing else mattered.

“Nothing is going on with Harriet,” Newt muttered into the darkness, his voice making its way through Thomas’s bad thoughts. He could feel the vibrations against Newt’s neck.

His hand tightened on Newt's shirt.

In this moment of vulnerability, he wasn’t able to resist his deepest want. 

So, he gave in.

He wanted this closeness to Newt. He wanted the old closeness that they once held. He wanted every night back with Newt - every memory.

Newt’s free arm raised to rest over Thomas's arm across his waist. His fingertips began tracing small patterns on Thomas’s arm absentmindedly. The feeling was so soothing and comforting, and Thomas couldn’t believe how fast he was able to calm down. The fuzziness slowly began clearing from his mind, the water that filled his mind slowly fading away. His breathing began evening out, and the smell of vanilla flooded into his mind instead.

In this moment, this was his Newt.

In this moment, it was easy to forget all of the months without him. It was easy to forget every night that he spent wishing for some miracle. It was easy to forget how his heart ached every second of the day, and seemed unable to ever heal. 

He was back with Newt in The Scorch. He was back with Newt in Janson’s Facility. He was back with Newt when he was _his_  Newt.

The boys’ were lost in time together. The whole world seemed to stop around them. They forgot who was in the room, and what lurked outside of this small shack. This is where they both were supposed to be - right here in this moment - and they both knew it. They were finally meeting in whatever universe their hearts belonged in. Together. 

After a few minutes of tracing soft patterns on his skin, Newt’s arm raised from Thomas’s. He reached out, reached up, and gentle fingertips brushed against Thomas’s jaw. The feeling was warm and familiar, and Thomas couldn’t help himself any longer. Thomas moved his head, raising it slowly, and positioned it to rest his forehead against Newt’s cheek. Newt’s hand dropped when Thomas moved, and he automatically craved more contact.

Newt had obviously been trying to comfort him, maybe trace patterns on Thomas’s cheek instead, but Thomas’s repositioning seemed to startle him. Maybe he had thought he was asleep already. Or maybe he can tell that the whole mood had shifted into something more.

Because as Thomas looked up, when he repositioned his head, all he could see were Newt’s lips.

He had always loved Newt’s lips. They always looked so soft and inviting - always a brilliant pink color. They were mesmerizing, and Thomas wanted to get lost in them.

Suddenly, the room was too warm. Newt’s arm was still pressed under his head, and Thomas’s forehead against Newt’s face, and it was too overwhelming. The heat in the room was suffocating.

He blamed Newt’s lips for what happened next.

There was a moment of silence - only the sound of their breathing syncing together could be heard around them. Thomas felt the rise and fall of Newt’s chest, his warmth leaving him hypnotized.

It was as if a magnetic pull was drawing Thomas forward. It was as if nothing in the world mattered more than this moment. He felt himself slowly being pulled forward, and had no control over it whatsoever. The want of being closer was finally too much to handle.

He wanted to give in.

He was tired of pretending that he didn’t want this.

He was tired of pretending that he wasn’t in love with Newt.

Thomas wasn’t sure who moved first, but suddenly, they were much too close. Newt had slowly turned his head, turning into Thomas. Their faces slowly brushed together, warmth filling Thomas as he had never felt before. Newt’s skin was soft, inviting, and it left him speechless. As Newt turned his head more, skin brushing against his once more, their lips aligned in the darkness. Newt’s lips were so close, and right there in front of him. Less than an inch away.

A few moments passed - a few breaths - before everything changed. In the darkness surrounding them, the hesitation and sadness from the past week snapped. The invisible rubber band, holding them away from each other, snapped.

There would be no more staying away. There would be no more pretending not to want this, not to want _Newt._

There were no more barriers anymore.

Thomas didn’t know who finally closed the distance. All he knew was that he felt a warm, soft touch against his lips. He felt Newt’s warm breath, slowly in sync with his, as if they had finally become one. He felt the way Newt’s lips gently parted against his, as if inviting him in for a kiss.

It wasn’t quite a kiss - just a whisper of one - but the invitation was there. 

Newt’s invitation hung in the air between them.

The dark clouds in Thomas’s mind parted - ready for his sun to finally shine through once more.

His sun was right there - _so_ _close_ \- and inviting him to close the distance between them.

Thomas was done pretending.

As Thomas’s mouth parted gently, brushing against Newt’s and ready to close the distance, a loud noise outside broke the moment.

Both boys sat quickly upright as they heard Harriet’s gun go off. 

 

 

 

**In The Scorch**

**7:37 PM**

 

When Thomas finally came back with Brenda, night was already falling. There were only specks of light left in the darkened sky, ready to disappear in any moment. With the dark came the cold - an intense thing that Thomas could never get used to. As soon as they parked the Jeep, Thomas jumped out without hesitation. He usually would lag in the warmer truck, but today, something much more important was on his mind. 

Brenda and Thomas had gone to look for signs of life among the mountains around them. It was an every other day mission, and it just happened to be Thomas and Newt’s turn today. Newt, though, asked to switch with Brenda today, due to him feeling a bit under the weather. It was usually a nice day that the two had when they were able to go and be alone for a few hours, but Thomas knew something was wrong from the moment that Newt woke up. 

Thomas hadn’t stopped worrying about him the whole time they were gone.

Newt had bad days. Thomas knew that. He had tried to ask hundreds of times, but never to any avail. All Thomas could do was stay by his side for the whole day, and keep an eye on him. He had never had to leave him alone on one of these days before, though. None of Newt’s bad days had ever fallen on a day where Thomas was required to leave him alone. Thomas had tried to ask for someone to switch with him, but they all had their own tasks to do back at camp. Newt had insisted that he was okay, and seemed irritated that Thomas tried to stay.

Thomas wished he had tried harder.

When he hopped out of the truck, Thomas automatically knew that something was wrong. Jorge quickly walked up to them, but went to Thomas before Brenda. That never meant good things. Thomas’s heart dropped at his expression. He looked somber and stressed. He took a deep breath before speaking, brows furrowed, and dark eyes focused on Thomas’s face.

“What’s wrong, Jorge?” Brenda asked, sensing the same uneasiness from him. She walked around the truck, eyebrows furrowed and eyes locked on her friend. “What happened?”

Thomas suddenly then realized that he could only see Vince. He was sitting on the ground near the fire, looking into the direction of the trees away from them. He was looking at something. 

Thomas’s eyes quickly - desperately - searched for the other two boys. He couldn’t catch sight of both - only an outline of _one_ against the trees. His heart clenched in his chest - threatening to twist itself in half. 

“Newt,” Jorge sighed, looking back at Vince. Vince glanced back at Thomas, his expression seeming to match Jorge’s. “He’s not doing too well.” 

“What happened?” Thomas demanded, turning away from Jorge to stalk toward Vince. Rage and terror were engulfing him, taking over every other emotion. He felt paralyzed with fear.  _“Where is he?”_

Jorge, taking a few steps to reach him, reached out and grabbed Thomas’s arm before he could get too far. Vince rose to stand in his path, stopping Thomas from walking any further. 

“He’s fine,” Jorge muttered, voice low. Thomas quickly turned to look at him, wanting to rip the older man’s grip off of his arm. He just needed to see him already. He shouldn’t have left. “He got into the liquor. He’s fine. Just a bit…”

He trailed off, but Thomas understood immediately.

Thomas yanked his arm out of Jorge’s grip, and without waiting for a reaction, stalked past Vince and toward the spot in the tree line that he had seen Vince staring at. As he got closer, he could see the outline of Frypan standing against a tree, arms crossed and a worried expression on his face. As Thomas got closer and Fry caught sight of him, Fry let out a sigh of relief. He took a step away from the trees, and began walking back toward the rest of the group. As he passed Thomas, he gave a small pat on his shoulder.

He seemed to know that Thomas would want to talk to Newt alone, and he was grateful for how well Frypan seemed to know him.

Thomas walked up to the tree line, expecting to see Newt immediately. It took him awhile to catch sight of Newt, though, as the blonde was sitting on the forest floor. 

He had his back against the trees, his knees up and his arms wrapped around them as if he was a child. As he noticed someone approaching, those big eyes looked up in the darkness at Thomas. His eyes grew wider dramatically, looking as if they might roll right out of his head. Newt, at the sight of Thomas, quickly stood. Well... tried to stand. To the best of his drunk capabilities, Newt stood up and stumbled into Thomas.

Thomas gasped at the sudden weight thrown on him, knees buckling and threatening to cause him to tumble backward. His arms wrapped around Newt’s waist without thinking, trying to keep both of them upright. Newt, obviously unaware of his struggle to keep standing, leaned into him even more. He threw his arms around Thomas’s neck, and buried his face into his neck.

“Newt,” Thomas gasped, his weight still pressing into him. He ignored how amazing it felt to have their bodies pressed together - his arms wrapped around his small waist. He was extremely warm, and reeked of alcohol. “Are you okay?”

“You were gone forever,” Newt muttered, his breath fanning across his neck. His speech was slightly slurred, slow, and deeper than normal. He was _really_ drunk.

Thomas felt awful for leaving him.

“I’m sorry, I tried to-”

“I’m really tired,” Newt cut off, his voice still uneven. “Can we sleep?”

Thomas paused for a moment, mulling over the options in his head. Thomas was not going to let Newt sleep on the floor of this dirty Scorch when he was having this rough of a night. He knew the keys to the Jeep were still in his back pocket, and Thomas knew that that was exactly where he was going to have Newt sleep for the night. The back of the truck had barely enough room, but he didn’t want Newt to have to be around everyone else right now. He wanted him to feel comfortable.  

“Of course we can sleep,” Thomas muttered, taking advantage of the moment to stand up properly. Newt had relaxed into him, arms now hanging loosely around his neck. Although he was still holding onto Thomas, Newt was slightly swaying back and forth from not being able to stand properly. Thomas sighed, knowing there was absolutely no way that the blonde could walk in his drunken state.

He loosened his arms from around Newt’s slim waist, and crouched slightly. Newt didn’t seem to even notice that Thomas was moving, because when Thomas scooped him up bridal style in one fluid motion, he gasped.

 _“Jesus, Tommy!”_ Newt laughed, sounding breathless. His head rolled back to look at Thomas, arms still around his neck. Thomas glanced down, but quickly looked back up when he realized how close their heads were. He had been about to knock into Newt’s head with his jaw. Newt laughed breathlessly, head rolling everywhere as if he had no control over it whatsoever. He kept up his attempt to look up at Thomas, but was unable to keep his focus. "Wow."

Thomas began walking away from the trees and back into camp - ignoring everyone else around them. He was determined to not give them any idea of how bad it was, just in case they didn’t know already. He wished that they could have privacy, and that he could have a safe place for Newt to rest it off. 

He didn’t want anyone to pity him. Newt didn’t deserve to be pitied.

Despite the freezing temperatures of The Scorch, the blonde idiot just had a t-shirt on.

One of Thomas’s hands was tucked under his back, holding him up, while the other was under his knees. The hand on Newt’s soft t-shirt could feel the warmth of his body through the thin material. Newt’s body felt as if it was a small heater, and that worried him. Newt would most likely come down with a fever the next day. How could they have left him outside for this long without a coat?

They reached the back of the trunk without any incidents. When it came to opening the back of the truck, though, it was a whole other story. Thomas eventually had to kick a boot up and pop open the back, all the while still carrying Newt in his arms. And this boy was _much_ heavier then he looked. Thomas’s arms were already aching.

Newt had been extremely quiet the whole way. He kept his eyes open, but only stared ahead of him, as if he was in a daydream. When Thomas popped open the back, however, he glanced up at Thomas once again. Thomas didn’t dare look down, though. 

“In here?” Newt asked, sounding confused. Thomas could just picture the way his lips pouted slightly - the way he always unconsciously did when he had questions. He swore he could see it in his peripheral vision. His mind spun at the thought.

"In here." Ignoring his intense desire to look down at those pouty lips, Thomas took a step forward and placed Newt gently into the back of the truck. Newt kept in a sitting position as he deposited him, and kept his eyes on Thomas’s face. The warmth that seeped from his bones at the loss of contact from Newt made him shiver in the cold night.

“Stay here,” Thomas muttered, ignoring Newt’s gaze. He turned to walk around the truck, walking through the rough wind, toward Newt’s sleeping bag on the floor.

“Everything ok?” Fry spoke up from near the fire, sounding concerned. “Is he doing alright?”

Thomas glanced up as he grabbed Newt’s sleeping bag, sweater, and blankets. Vince, Jorge, Fry and Brenda were all looking at him with concern. They were all huddled around the fire to keep warm, sitting inside of their sleeping bags with their blankets pulled closed. Thomas nodded, feeling grateful for their concern. He didn’t explain anything more, though, and left it at that. He scooped up Newt’s belongings and turned back to return to him. 

When Newt came back into view, Thomas could immediately see how uneasy he looked. The separation from that small amount of time seemed to affect him a lot. Thomas couldn’t imagine how he must have felt like for the whole day that he was gone. Guilt twisted deep inside of him.

How could he have left him? 

Thomas reached the back of the trunk, and placed the sleeping bag and blankets on the truck bed next to Newt. Without asking if he was capable to do so, Thomas reached out and grabbed hold of one of Newt’s boots. His long legs were dangling over the edge of the Jeep, and it was easy access to grab a boot and yank it towards his body to untie the laces. Newt stayed quiet during this, but Thomas felt eyes on him the entire time. He pulled off a boot and tossed it into the truck behind Newt. He quickly did the same to the other, and tossed it back as well.

Thomas reached into the pile that he had discarded inside the truck, and pulled out Newt’s pull-over sweatshirt. Without waiting for permission again, Thomas reached out and pulled it over the boys blonde head, yanking it down and around his body.

“You’re...you’re not leaving, right?”

Thomas hesitated. He had been helping Newt find the arm holes to the sweater, grabbing his warm arm from underneath the sweater, but glanced up at the question. The way that Newt was staring down at him, big chocolate doe eyes pleading, he already knew that he could never resist them.

Newt’s hair was everywhere on top of his head. It was the result of pulling the sweatshirt over his head and the wind blowing through The Scorch, and Thomas couldn’t keep his eyes off of it. He looked adorable. Without thinking, he reached out and ran a hand through the soft locks, fixing it just the slightest bit. Newt’s eyes closed at the contact, his body still slowly swaying. A soft, gentle smile tugged at his lips. Thomas’s heart jumped into his throat. 

“Of course not,” Thomas muttered, hesitantly lowering his hand from the soft blonde hair. Newt’s eyes didn’t open. “I don’t have my stuff, though-” 

“We’ll share,” Newt muttered - eyes still closed. It was as if he didn’t want to look at Thomas, cheeks turning pinker than they had been a moment ago. The cold wind was nipping at his cheeks and nose, and Thomas wanted to hurry and wrap Newt up in his blankets.

He quickly finished helping Newt’s arms find the sweater holes, and glanced up as soon as it was on correctly. Newt’s eyes were still shut. Thomas grabbed hold of the side of the truck, and hoisted himself inside. Newt’s head turned to look at him, then, but Thomas occupied himself with fixing the blankets.

The fact that he was about to sleep with Newt again made his skin buzz with anticipation. He tried not to think selfishly, especially when Newt wasn’t feeling well, but it was so hard to concentrate on anything else.   

“Lay down,” Thomas muttered, stretching out the sleeping bag. Newt didn’t respond back, but scooted backward and clumsily slipped inside of the sleeping bag. Thomas kept the sleeping bag opened, and stretched out one of the blankets on top of him. As he added another, he decided to finally try and speak. 

“How do you feel?” Thomas asked gently, softly draping the second blanket over Newt’s body. Newt stayed quiet. Thomas glanced up at him, but saw that Newt’s eyes were staring up at the ceiling above them. He wasn’t going to answer him. Thomas took a deep breath, and slowly draped the top of the sleeping bag over the boy.

Thomas quickly slipped off his own boots, then reached over Newt to snap the back door closed. The cold wind automatically was shut out, and the car became much more comfortable in temperature. As Thomas lay back and slipped under the covers, he kept about a head lower than Newt. His head was even with Newt’s collarbone, and his legs had to stay bent at the angle he was laying. The truck bed was much too small to have him laying this low, but Thomas didn’t dare lay next to Newt. He didn’t want to push anything on Newt that he wasn’t sure the blonde would be okay with.

A few minutes passed - their even breathing the only sound in the trunk. Thomas was sure that this was going to be it, and was debating if he should try and ask again what was wrong, when Newt beat him to it.

“Don’t you get it? I’m not fragile.” 

Shocked at the sudden outburst, Thomas tried to speak. He tilted his head up to look at Newt, eyes wide. Newt kept his eyes cast upward, though. “Newt, I never said-” 

“I’m not some weak kid. I can take care of myself. Who cares if I’m a bit lost sometimes?” Newt took a deep breath, eyes still cast upward at the roof of the car. There was a pause. Thomas didn’t dare interrupt. “Sometimes, yeah, I feel like half of me is missing, but I’m not. And I know I’m not. I can take care of my bloody self.” 

Thomas’s heart twisted painfully. Why would Newt feel that way? Of course Thomas didn’t pity him. He never had.

“I always knew you could. I just thought it would be nice to have someone that you can lean on,” Thomas muttered, voice thick with emotion. He continued to stare up at the blonde, but his eyes weren’t met by Newt’s. The side of blondes face was still - tense. 

There was another pause. Newt’s breathing quickened by the second. Thomas wanted to reach out and comfort him.

“It would be easier if I just didn’t wake up,” Newt whispered. Thomas’s breath caught in his throat. “There would be less supplies wasted, more space for everyone…I mean, you all have a purpose. You all bring something to our group. I don’t. I’m pretty fucking useless.”

“You better not say that again,” Thomas whispered, surprised his voice was even able to escape. Newt looked down at him then, surprised, but it was Thomas’s turn to look away. His eyes had welled up with tears, and he didn’t want Newt to think he was pitying him. He kept his eyes focused on the sliver of sky that he could see outside the window. Under the blanket, his hands shook at his sides. “That was the stupidest thing you’ve ever said.” 

“Thomas-” 

“You don’t get it, do you? We wouldn’t be here without you.”

“Bullshit,” Newt muttered lowly, voice breaking. “I can’t do anything ri-”

“You are not useless. You’ve never been useless. You’re the glue keeping us all together, Newt. You keep me together. If you didn’t wake up, I’d...I’d go insane. You better always wake up, Newt. We all need you. _I_ need you.”

Thomas’s tears didn’t spill over, but _hell_ he couldn’t see through them. After a few minutes of staying quiet, of continuing to look out the window, he finally closed his eyes. The tears automatically fell then, due to the movement, but Thomas didn’t reach up to wipe them away. 

Another few moments passed, and Thomas assumed that Newt had fallen asleep. Surprisingly, and almost making him jump, Newt suddenly shifted under the blankets. He rolled onto his side so that he was able to sleep in his usual position. His head was now resting above Thomas’s - his knees curled up and gently pressing against Thomas’s arm.

It was almost as if the wind had gently breezed through the car. Thomas felt a ghost of a touch against his cheek - so gentle that he could have sworn that he was imagining it. The touch continued though, softly stroking his cheek. It was Newt’s fingertips. He was gently caressing Thomas’s face. The warmth of his touch, and the softness behind it, left Thomas in a trance. His body felt alive with electricity. After about a minute of this, Thomas spoke.

“We will find a Safe Haven one day, you know,” Thomas whispered, making Newt jump. Newt had obviously thought that he had been asleep. He felt Newt’s muscles tense, and the fingers on his cheek stilled. “And when we get there, I can’t wait to tell Minho and everyone else about everything that you’ve done for us.” 

Newt’s muscles relaxed. His head dipped lower, now coming to rest against the top of Thomas’s. His body curled closer to Thomas, and the fingertips on his cheek traveled upward to his hair. Newt gently ran his hand over and over through his hair in comforting motions, in the soft spot just above his ear.

As Thomas began drifting off to sleep from the caressing, all he could think was _why wasn’t he comforting Newt instead?_

Little did he know, Newt was even more comforted by the action than Thomas was. Silent tears slipped down Newt’s cheeks, his heart aching to lay in this moment forever.

 

 

 

 

 

**In The Scorch**

1 month before the burning of WCKD/Newt's death

the storm

PART TWO

3:47 AM

 

The weather throughout the day had been a nightmare. They all were dreading the night, a bad feeling running deep in everyone’s bones, but they never could have predicted what the night would bring. They were expecting the worst, but couldn’t imagine that anything like this would happen.

Thomas woke up from an urgent shaking of his arm. His eyes snapped open automatically, sitting up without hesitation. He briefly met Frypan's huge, worried eyes, and instantly knew that something wasn't right. Frypan spoke quickly, but clearly. He was trying his best to stay calm.

"A storm's coming, boss. It'll hit any second. Wake up Newt and get into the Jeep. Now."

Thomas leapt to his feet as Frypan quickly moved to wake up the next person. He spun around to crouch down and shake Newt awake. Newt's eyes snapped open, looking up at Thomas in confusion.

Before he could speak, it was upon them. Thomas reached out and grabbed hold of Newt, losing complete sight of him in the dust engulfing them.

Thomas shut his eyes quickly, knowing that he would suffer a lot of damage if he tried to keep them open. His arms wrapped blindly around Newt tightly - the sound of the storm deafening. It was as if Thomas couldn’t even think properly from the roaring in his ears.

He felt Newt’s hands grabbing hold of him desperately. Thomas pulled him close, pulling him to his body and wrapping his arms around him tightly. The Jeep was behind them, and Thomas knew that they had to get to it. He began walking forward, pulling Newt along with him.

The fact that he knew he was useless in this moment was terrifying. He hated feeling out of control.

He walked carefully, despite the storm’s strong winds attempting to pull him in every direction. He felt Newt shaking against him, and could hear him trying to speak, but couldn’t make out the words through the sound of the wind.

His back hit the Jeep, and relief flooded through him. Thomas unwrapped an arm from around Newt and frantically swept his hand across the side of the Jeep, trying to find the door handle. As soon as his hand found purchase, he quickly opened the door and turned around - allowing Newt to clamber through first. As soon as he felt the blonde get inside of the car, he quickly clambered inside as well, and shut the door behind them.

The roaring winds were still loud, but now muffled from the closed doors. Thomas turned in the darkness in the car, reaching out for Newt once more.

“Are you okay?!” Thomas asked, hands finding purchase of Newt’s arms. His throat seemed to be rubbed raw from all of the dust collecting inside of him. He couldn’t see anything due to the darkness of the dust storm outside, but he could finally hear Newt’s quick breathing.

“The rest of them,” Newt coughed, sounding worse off then Thomas. “I need to go get them.”

“No way,” Thomas whispered, panic rising in him. “There’s no way I’m letting you out there aga-”

Newt’s hands reached out blindly, and found Thomas’s face in the darkness. His soft hands cupped Thomas’s jaw, and held on with a comfortable pressure. The warmth from his touch didn’t help ease the panic at all. “I’ll be right back, Tommy. I won’t ever leave your side, I promised you, didn't I?”

“Newt, don’t-”

“Stay here, or I will never bloody fucking forgive you.” Newt snapped, voice sounding scratchy from the dust. His voice softened drastically then, as if he couldn’t help it. “I’m disposable. You’re not. You need to stay safe, Thomas. For all of us. For the whole world. ”

He let go of Thomas without another word. Before Thomas could stop him - before he could reach out - Newt had opened the other door and disappeared into the storm.

Thomas didn’t even have time to tell him that he _did_ matter. More than the whole world itself.  

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! I have missed you all so so much. I hope everyone is having a great week.
> 
> I wanted to try something a bit different in the comments this time.  
> If you do not want to read about me, feel free to skip :)
> 
> I feel as if I haven't been clear about the topic of my knowledge of mental health, and I thought i would share a bit. 
> 
> I feel as if mental health is not talked about as much as it should be, and hearing more about it from more people might help one of you feel less alone. Hopefully! <3 
> 
> I hope my two friends on twitter know that this was inspired by them, and I only want the absolute best for them. I don't want them to believe that they are the only ones struggling, and that they are NOT alone. I have had friends that I have met from this site saying the same thing - that they feel worthless, and it breaks my fucking heart. I will always be here for you all, if you need to talk. I know how it feels to hate yourself so much that you don't feel like you belong anywhere. If you need me, please please please don't hesitate to message me. 
> 
> I suffer from intense anxiety. I have for my whole life, and it is a daily, 24/7 struggle for me. With my anxiety, I also suffer from mild OCD. It is not the "the car volume needs to be at an even number" but something that takes over your entire mind. 
> 
> It's a "if i don't say goodnight to this person a certain amount of times and hug them a certain amount of times, they will die in the middle of the night and it will be my fault." It takes me about an hour to leave the house from my constant checking, and an hour to fall asleep because of the rituals that I need to do every night.
> 
> My anxiety stops me from doing daily things, like going places alone, or making friends. My mind never stops thinking awful thoughts, and I never stop worrying. I am in a constant state of panic throughout the day. The only time that I feel safe is in the early hours of the morning, when everyone I love is safe and asleep in their beds.
> 
> I want to apologize if I have ever had any awkward moments with any of you. I love you all endlessly, and you all mean the world to me, so I'm so sorry if I haven't been the best at making conversation.
> 
> I bring this up to explain my lack of posting sometimes. If something mildly inconvenient happens one day, it completely throws me off track. It ruins my whole day, no matter how small it was. It stops me from even wanting to get up in the morning, let alone write. Sometimes, some chapters are so hard for me to write because I feel so distraught about something that doesn't matter. 
> 
> I love you all from the bottom of my heart. You're all wonderful and supportive, and I don't deserve any of you. Thank you for all being so kind. I never expected to meet so many amazing people.
> 
> all my love,  
> amy xxx


	12. the missing piece

 

**PRESENT DAY**

 

The moment between him and Newt had completely broken - his mind focused only on what was going on outside. Being a leader for so long, even after all this time, had the switch in his brain going off. His battle mode -  his protective mode - shut everything else out. Everything else was pushed to the side. 

Well, at least for now. 

Newt would always be his top priority. Even after all this time, even after thinking that he would never see him again. Especially now. 

Thomas was the first one outside. As he crossed the threshold, he heard everyone else scramble to their feet behind him, quickly darting toward the door. It was sad that they all had the same instinct - the same switch inside of their brains. They were always ready for anything at a split seconds notice. 

He wished more than anything that they didn’t have to be. 

Harriet was standing on the porch. She had her gun lowered at her side, and she was staring at something across the yard - right next to the small gate that they always squeezed through. She had her flashlight pointed directly at an object on the other side of the fence, illuminating it just enough to see what it was. Her face was grim. 

There, on the other side, was a crank. 

It was obviously dead, with its body thrown backward into the tall grass. There was blood seeping out of its head and down its body - a perfect headshot. It had to be a younger boy, maybe around their age, although it almost look indistinguishable from the dark veins running up and down its face. 

After entering the Safe Haven, Thomas hadn’t been outside in The Scorch until this trip to find Newt. The last crank that he had seen was…

Behind him, Thomas heard someone throw up.

Thomas wheeled around - catching sight of Newt throwing up into the small bushes near the entrance of the shack. He didn’t throw up much, due to their shortage of food, but it still had to be his full dinner. The blonde grabbed hold of the side of the door, holding his body steady, and Thomas quickly reached behind him to grab hold of Newt’s other arm as well. With the extra support, Newt gave two more big heaves, and then went still. His head hung low after, eyes not daring to glance back over at the body. Thomas’s hands remained on his arm, almost more for mental support than physical. 

Newt shook slightly under his touch. 

“I tried to let it be, but it noticed me,” Harriet’s voice sounded somewhere behind Thomas. She sounded tired, almost like she always did. He could relate to that - the stress of being leader. He felt for her, despite his current anger towards her. “I shot it as soon as it started thrashing against the gate. It wouldn’t have stopped until it killed itself anyway.”

“Think there’s more?” Gally spoke up next to Thomas. He didn’t sound nervous, only curious. Gally never came off as nervous, and Thomas envied him for it. He always seemed so brave and composed. 

“Unlikely,” Aris muttered, sounding sleepy. Thomas glanced up at him, and sure enough, was able to catch sight of a yawn. He didn’t seem at all fazed at the sight in front of them. He had been out here much longer than them, after all. “Don’t travel in packs much.”

Thomas’s eyes caught movement behind Aris. Teresa was hiding behind him in the shadows - almost as if she wanted to disappear. As he noticed her, she seemed to feel the stare. She turned her head and locked eyes with Thomas. 

He quickly looked away. Now was not the time to be thinking about Teresa. 

“It’s been so long since we’ve been out here,” Minho muttered, still staring at the place that the crank lay. Harriet had turned the flashlight off, but since their eyes were used to the darkness by now, the shape of it in the grass was still visible. “I’ve been trying to block all the memories out.”

Thomas’s thumbs rubbed the bare skin of Newt’s arms, a small and gentle motion. He hoped it was helping. Newt was still leaning against the door with his head down - almost as if he was staring at the vomit below him. His hair was almost long enough to flop into his eyes, and he seemed to be attempting to hide beneath it. 

“Want me to take watch, Harriet?” Fry spoke up behind Thomas. “You shouldn’t have to stay-”

“I’ll do it,” Newt said, the sudden sentence making Thomas jump. His hands dropped from Newt’s arm, falling limply to his sides. Newt didn’t move from the position he was in, though. He kept still - hunching against the door. The shaking of his body seemed to be slowly calming down. “I’ll keep watch.”

Thomas, feeling eyes on him, glanced up. He caught Harriet’s eye. She gave him a pointed look, dark eyes flashing, and he understood immediately. 

Harriet walked over and held out the gun to Thomas. He took it without hesitation, and she pushed past Gally to get inside of the shack. Just like Sonya and Aris, she was unfazed. This wasn’t anything new. 

Thomas ignored the feeling of multiple eyes on him, and he stayed in place while everyone else filed back inside. Soon enough, only him and Newt remained. 

Newt, finally moving from his spot against the door, turned slowly to walk to the edge of the porch. Shakily, he lowered himself and took a seat on the small porch step. It was covered in overgrown grass, and Thomas could barely see the step itself. Even so, Thomas slowly walked over towards Newt, and sank down next to him. They were close - but not close enough to touch. He didn’t want to overstep any boundary right now. 

Thomas placed the gun on the step next to him, and stared at it for a while. Guns never quite sat right with him. They always seemed to be out of place - as if they didn’t belong. Even as necessary as they were. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, sitting under the night sky. It was silent besides the rustling of everyone trying to get comfortable once more behind them, and a far-away noise of a cricket. The cold wind was slowly breezing through, ruffling both of the boys hair as they sat. Thomas was transfixed at the sight of Newt’s soft, blonde hair slightly moving in the wind. He wanted to run his hands though it, and hold him close for warmth. He wanted to hold him and tell him that everything would be alright. 

A soft noise behind them made Thomas glance over his shoulder. A figure moved out from the shadows of the small room, and walked out onto the porch. Teresa held two sweatshirts in her small hands. Her messy hair ruffled in the breeze as she walked slowly toward them. Without a word, eyes not daring to catch Thomas’s, she held out both of the sweaters to him. 

“Thank you,” Thomas muttered, gently grabbing both from her hands. He tried to catch her eye, but to no luck. She didn’t look up - didn’t say a word - and silently turned on her heel and disappeared once more into the house. 

Thomas turned and gently placed one pullover across Newt’s lap. He pulled a dark green one over his own head, a familiar vanilla scent overwhelming him. He took a deep breath of it in as he straightened the pullover and ran his arms through the sleeves. As he was finishing, he glanced over at Newt. 

Newt was still staring straight ahead, face pale, as if he had seen a ghost. 

Thomas, without thinking, reached out and grabbed the sweater from Newt’s waist. He pulled opened up the bottom of the sweater, reached over, and quickly pulled it over the blonde’s head in one swift motion. Newt turned his head to look at Thomas as he did so, the hood pulling over his blonde hair. Thomas felt Newt’s arms begin moving, winding their way through the sweater on their own, so he dropped his hands. As Newt ran his arms through the sweater, his eyes met Thomas’s.

Newt looked tired. His eyes lacked their usual light - their usual warmth. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. There were dark bags under his eyes, and his shoulders were hunched just the slightest bit. 

Thomas finally then realized that them not talking had been just as hard on Newt as it had been on him. 

“You’ve done that before.”

The question startled Thomas. Newt wasn’t asking him - he was telling him. His blonde eyes, although tired, looked determined.

“I have.” 

Newt didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. The moment between them needed no words. The breeze ruffled through Thomas’s hair, but Newts was now covered by the hoodie that was pulled over his head. Thomas wished he could pull it down to see his face more. 

He remembered. At least...he remembered  _ that  _ memory. 

Newt finally turned his head away. His gaze slowly swept across the yard, and landed on the fence once more. There was a moment of silence. 

“So I was one of them?”

That explained the vomit. That explained everything. Newt hadn’t known about being a crank - he hadn’t known that he was going to die. This was his first time seeing a crank since that realization. It must have been so hard for him. Especially to see Harriet head shot one without a second thought. 

“Turning into one. So...not quite. I guess.” Thomas was tripping over his words. He felt uneasy - fragile. The look on Newt’s face was heartbreaking. Thomas wished more than anything that he could do  _ something.  _ Newt was staring at the body on the other side of the fence with...sadness. As if he felt  _ bad _ for the crank. 

The silence stretched on for a while. Thomas wiggled his shoulders and stretched his back - trying to get comfortable in the cold. He looked back at the crank as he did so, his mind racing. He wondered what it would be like to be a crank. He wondered what Newt had been going through those long days leading up to Teresa saving him. 

As Thomas extended his legs in front of him in the tall grass, Newt spoke up.

“Were you scared of me?” His voice was small and hesitant. Nervous of the response. 

“Never,” Thomas answered - no hesitation needed. He turned his head to look sideways at the blonde, but wasn’t met with his eyes. Newt continued to stare off into the distance - right at the crank. 

Of course he wasn’t scared of Newt. He never could be. Even if Newt were to become a crank, and charge at him, he wouldn’t be scared of him. He would be scared  _ for  _ him. 

“I was dying, right?”

“Yes.”

Another pause. Newt’s eyes squinted slightly, as if his emotions were overpowering him. 

“Did I know I was dying?” Newt’s voice cracked. As Thomas stared at him, the blonde’s eyes welled with tears. Newt still didn’t look from the crank, though, despite the awful feelings running deeply inside of him. Even though he  _ should  _ look away from the crank. 

A sudden urge to take off his necklace overcame Thomas. A shiver ran down his spine, but it had nothing to do with the cold winds around them. Thomas slowly reached up, trying to find the worn yarn around his neck. As soon as he found purchase, he pulled it up and over his head. 

It was weird having it off. The last time it was off, Newt had looked at it the day they found him. Now, he was finally going to read it. 

Thomas, without a word, held out a shaky hand to Newt. Newt finally broke his transfixed gaze on the crank. His eyes flickered to the small object being held out to him. In the moonlight, the small case glittered.

Newt reached out then, hands shaking slightly. He gently took it from Thomas, careful not to touch his skin. Thomas watched Newt pull it close to his chest - the tears in the blondes eyes still threatening to escape. He slowly began to undo the top, and gently pulled out the note. Thomas watched Newt unfold it.

This was the first time that Newt had read it since he had written it, and Thomas tried not to think about how hard this would be for him. Even if he didn’t remember why he wrote the things he did, the emptiness of forgetting would hit him hard as he read. 

Thomas was right. As Newt read, the tears began to fall. The hands holding the note began to shake. They began to shake so badly that Thomas could hear the rustling of the paper in his hands. 

Thomas, unable to watch the tears stream down the blondes face, closed the distance. He scooted over and pressed up against Newt’s side. His arm slowly wrapped around Newt’s waist, and held on tightly. Newt let himself slowly fall into Thomas’s chest, eyes still glued on the note under him. At the touch, warmth filled Thomas and it comforted him immensely, and he hoped it did the same to Newt. 

“I could feel that something was missing,” Newt spoke up, surprising Thomas. His voice was weak, and tired. He felt it vibrate against his chest. “This whole time. Then... I found it with you guys. It’s different now.  _ I  _ feel different. Not so…” 

“Lost?”

Newt took a deep breath under him. Thomas gently rubbed small circles on Newt’s side with his thumb. Newt shook his head slightly, the hood of his sweatshirt that was pulled over his head rubbed against Thomas’s jaw. 

“I’ve said that to you before as well, haven’t I?”

“Yes.”

Newt let out a small laugh - a sharp exhale through his nose. Thomas kept up his comforting circles on the blondes arm. 

“Bloody fuck. You knew me just like the back of your hand, didn’t you?”

Thomas couldn’t help but smile at that. He leaned his head down to press his cheek into the fabric of the sweatshirt that covered Newt’s head. 

“I would like to think so.”

Another pause. Newt took a deep breath, and Thomas felt it against his chest. 

“Thomas-”

“To answer your question before you ask it...no. We weren’t anything. You never told me that you had any feelings, and I never told you that I did either. There wasn’t any of that. Nothing ever happened. I wasn’t lying to you.”

Newt hesitated. “So...Teresa then?”

Thomas laughed at that. Newt moved his head, pulling away from Thomas. His eyes glanced up at his, shy and curious. Thomas couldn’t help but reach out then, and brush a hand against the soft skin on the blondes cheek. He cupped his face, gently rubbing his thumb against Newt’s skin. Newt leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed. He took a deep breath before speaking. 

“None of that, either,” Thomas muttered. How could it have ever been anyone but Newt? “So...Harriet?”

It was Newt’s time to let out a small laugh. Eyes still closed, he quietly mimicked Thomas’s voice. 

_ “None of that either.” _

“Oh shut up,” Thomas muttered, fake scolding him. He began to remove his hand from Newt’s cheek, teasing him, but Newt’s hand shot up quickly and grabbed hold of it. He pulled it back to his face, forcing Thomas to cup his cheek once more. Thomas grinned, a light and carefree happiness bubbling up inside of him. 

He had forgotten that this wasn’t his Newt. 

The mimicking - the playful teasing - was enough to have him completely forget. Even though they were having this conversation, even though it was obvious that this wasn’t his Newt, Thomas forgot. 

In this moment, it didn’t even matter. 

Thomas leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Newt’s. He closed his eyes, and felt Newt reach up and cup his cheeks in return. They sat there in silence, under the night sky with the cold wind blowing everywhere around them, and enjoyed their moment. 

  
  
  
  
BEFORE

**The Scorch**

 

 

On the day that Thomas and Newt had to do their weekly drive around, they finally decided to stop by an abandoned building that they had been curious about. Thomas was betting that it was an old bank, but Newt was dead set on insisting that it was a library. For months, they kept insisting they would stop by, but they never had. Thomas was the one who finally put his foot down and decided to prove Newt that he was right - that it  _ was _ a bank. 

“It’s much too fancy to be a bank,” Newt scoffed as they hopped out of the Jeep. He glanced up at the big building, shielding his eyes from the harsh sunlight. The signature halo around his head shone brightly in the intense sunlight. “Look at the details on the roof!”

“Bank,” Thomas insisted, shaking his head in a teasing manner. He closed his car door, unable to take his eyes off of Newt. “I’ll bet you.”

“What’s the bet?” Newt demanded, quickly turning to look at Thomas over the hood of the Jeep. Thomas quickly glanced up to the building, determined to not let Newt know that he had been staring at him for much too long. How embarrassing. He hoped Newt didn’t see the rush of color to his cheeks.

“Anything,” Thomas said, looking up at the huge building. He sighed, and stole a glance at Newt again. “Anything  _ I  _ want, since I’ll win.”

“Well when  _ I  _ win, I’ll choose a good one,” Newt muttered back, eyes gleaming playfully in the sunlight. Newt turned on his heel and practically sprinted to the building, and Thomas had to jog to keep up. The smile on Thomas’s face was embarrassing. 

The entrance  _ was _ very beautiful, Thomas had to admit. From the old dirt road far away, they couldn’t see much of the entrance. There were huge trees that had overgrown and blocked sight of most of the entrance, and they would have to push past branches to get into the building. As they approached closer, though, they could see glass shattered on the floor near an entrance and an exit. The glass had obviously been the doorway to it, and Thomas immediately knew that he had been wrong. 

Newt seemed to realize this too, because he turned and gave Thomas a playful smirk. Thomas realized in that moment that it was  _ perfectly  _ okay that Newt had won if it meant seeing him act so carefree and playful. The smirk was also something that Thomas wanted to take a picture of and remember forever. 

“We aren’t even in yet, don’t be cocky,” Thomas teased, walking past Newt and approaching the shattered glass. There appeared to be old, dried blood on the glass, and Thomas seemed to only then remember that this was an infected world now. They had no idea what was in there. The playful banter with Newt had somehow brought his guard down to the point that he had forgotten about the Hell they lived in. 

Thomas had on a backpack gun holster, so it was safely strapped on his chest. He slipped out his gun and held it tightly in his hand. Newt had paused for a moment next to him, almost as if he had just remembered himself. Thomas watched him take his own gun out of his waist holster. 

Thomas walked through the glass first - ducking through the entrance. The glass shattered under his feet, his boots heavily pressing on the bigger pieces. He heard Newt behind him, who was suddenly as quiet as he was. 

As soon as they were fully inside of the entrance, Thomas looked around. He groaned playfully at his wrong thinking, and was rewarded with a slap on the shoulder. He turned and narrowed his eyes at Newt, who let out a breath of a laugh out of his nose. The way his eyes crinkled from his smile made Thomas’s heart clench. 

It  _ was _ a library. It was a decent sized one, and Thomas was surprised that it was still standing as well as it was. There were books and papers scattered everywhere on the floor - overflowing to the point that the rug carpeting was almost covered completely. There was a second story, with rooms visible with glass walls. There was a lot of blood smeared against those, though, and Thomas could faintly see a few bodies hunched over on the glass. Well...what remained of them. They had obviously been picked over by a few things. If he squinted enough, he was sure one was even missing a -

“We just won’t go up there,” Newt muttered, obviously noticing what he had. Thomas turned to look at Newt again, but he was looking at all of the books around them. He looked slightly put out due to what they saw. “I have a feeling that I love reading.”

“I’m not surprised,” Thomas admitted, taking a few steps into the building. Thomas could smell the scent of the bodies, but only slightly as they were so far away and in a closed room. He tried to ignore it. He walked over to the first rotating bookshelf, and began looking at all the titles. “You should see if you remember any.”

And they did just that. For about thirty minutes, the boys walked over all of the books strewn on the floor to examine the bookshelves around them. There were thousands upon thousands of books, most even still securely placed in the bookshelves. 

Thomas found himself captivated by the children’s section, with all of the picture books and easy level reading. He wondered how many children have passed through here, and who were the last ones there. He was relieved to not find any bodies in this room. That isn’t something that he had witnessed for a long time, and he wasn’t ready to ever again. 

A small book from Shel Silverstein caught his eye. “The Missing Piece.” 

 

“I think you are the one that I have been waiting for,”

Said the missing piece.

“Maybe I am your missing piece.”

 

Without thinking, without wondering why he felt so compelled to do so, he ended up stuffing it into his backpack. As he zipped it shut, a funny thought crossed his mind. Was it stealing if no one would ever come back to claim it? 

Ah, what did it matter at this point. He had killed people, looted through stores and cargo trains, and had even broke into the he library itself. Even if the doors  _ had  _ been open.

As soon as he was about to leave the aisle to go find Newt, the blonde appeared in the room. He was looking down as he walked, a few books clutched in his hands. His blonde hair threatened to cover his eyes - it had grown so long. He looked as captivated about the books as Thomas felt looking at him.

“Do you want to check those out, sir?” Thomas teased, catching Newt’s attention. Newt glanced up to catch Thomas’s eyes, surprised for a moment, before grinning. It took up his whole face and something inside of Thomas seemed to snap in half. 

Probably his sanity. 

As the sun itself smiled at him, it said, “Yes actually, but I seem to have forgotten my library card.”

“Oh well, that won’t do,” Thomas scolded, although he held a teasing smile on his lips. Newt’s grin didn’t waver, but seemed to grow wider. 

“I hope you can make an exception for me,” Newt teased, eyes crinkling. Thomas walked over, holding out his hands for the books. 

“We’ll see about that.” As Newt began to hand them over, Thomas caught sight of the name of the novel on top of the pile. “The Maze Runner” by James D-

When Thomas had reached Newt, before he could finish reading the book title, his foot had kicked something on the ground. A loud, shrilling sound rang suddenly through the room, causing both Newt and Thomas to jump out of their skin. The books in Newt’s outstretched hands clattered to the floor, and they both shuffled away. Thomas had his gun out once more in less than a second. 

The loud noise continued despite them moving away, and Thomas had to squint to find what was making the noise on the floor.

_ Music.  _

It was music. 

Both boys stared down at a circular object that was hidden under a book in shock. It was a portable CD player, and Thomas could see the speakers on the side. It had obviously been running off of batteries, and when Thomas had kicked it, it had caused it to turn on. 

It was a generic pop song - something that Thomas was sure he would have hated when music  _ did  _ play on the radio. In this moment, though, nothing had sounded nicer. Sure, they played music at The Glade through homemade instruments, but this was different. Much different. 

Newt’s eyes flashed up to catch Thomas’s. He looked just as shocked as he was. Those brown eyes looked excited, and Thomas knew that the simple mistake that he had made had made Newt’s day. His whole  _ being  _ seemed to brighten. The sun was back.  _ His  _ sun was back. 

_ “Tommy!”  _ Newt exclaimed, laughing. His hands clapped together, excitement threatening to overtake him. His grin was even more impossibly bigger than it had been a few moments ago.  _ “Music!” _

“I would hope I knew that already,” Thomas teased him, although the smile on his face was obvious. Thomas slipped the gun back into its holster and then crouched at the same time that Newt did, almost knocking into him. Newt reached out to grab onto Thomas’s arm to steady him. 

Heat rushed up into Thomas’s face as he did so - unable to help the blush that Newt caused. It deepend even more so when Newt didn’t remove his hand. As Newt leaned over to take the book off and touch the CD player, his hand remained. It was insanely hot today, and Thomas was only wearing a t-shirt, so Newt was touching bare skin. Goosebumps, despite the heat around them, erupted on his skin. 

Newt began bobbing his head along with the catchy beat - grin still on his face. He picked up the CD player with his free hand and stood, dropping his hand from Thomas’s arm. He placed it on the table behind them, and to Thomas surprise, began dancing. Well...not  _ dancing.  _ He was more swaying his shoulders and moving his head, but it was enough to cause Thomas to laugh in surprise. 

Newt scowled down at him playfully for a moment before reaching down and grabbing Thomas by the arm that he had been holding previously. He yanked Thomas upwards with strength that Thomas was shocked to witness, and pulled him to his feet. 

He left one hand on Thomas’s arm, but then turned his body so that they were facing each other. Newt’s hand slid down his bicep and to his own hand, interlocking his fingers with Thomas’s. Before Thomas could react, Newt’s free hand intertwined with those fingers as well. Thomas gaped at him in shock,  _ at the fact that they were holding hands,  _ but Newt didn’t pay any mind. Newt was grinning once more, and suddenly began moving his arms, which in turn moved Thomas’s. 

He was making him  _ dance.  _

“Come on, Tommy, loosen up!” Newt laughed, his eyes crinkling and his head falling back in his laughter. The sight of how carefree Newt was feeling warmed his heart and left him breathless. “Dance with me!”

Their fingers still intertwined, Newt kept up the motions with his hands. Soon enough, Thomas began moving his shoulders as well. His head began bobbing along with Newt’s, and the moment shifted into something that wasn’t scary. It wasn’t their living Hell. There weren’t any mauled dead bodies upstairs. There wasn’t dried blood spilled on the books scattered on the floor around them. It was just them. In the whole world, it was just them. Dancing, in the middle of the library, after they had been sure that they would never hear music again. 

Newt caught him by surprise by letting go of one hand and moving his arm above Thomas’s head, as if he wanted him to twirl under it. Thomas couldn’t help the laugh that ripped through his lungs - the carefree bubble that they were in expanding and softening. He did just as Newt wanted, and twirled under his arm. 

Newt couldn’t contain his laughter at Thomas’s obedience. He laughed so hard that as soon as Thomas was standing upright and facing him, Newt leaned against his chest and laughed. He laughed and laughed, and kept his fingers interlocked with Thomas’s. His head dropped onto Thomas’s shoulder, his body shaking in laughter against Thomas’s body. 

Thomas knew that there was no other place he would like to be in this moment. He doubted that he could ever experience any other memory as happy as this one.

  
  
  
  
  


**The Storm**

part 3

  
  


Thomas was going out of his mind. 

The second that Newt had moved away from him, the air was snatched out of his lungs and a helplessness that he had never experienced before settled deep into his bones. He couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Panic was making his body shake intensely, and he didn’t know how to stop it. 

Even if he were to go outside, he wouldn’t be able to  _ see.  _ He would be completely useless and possibly make this whole situation worse. What if he got lost and Newt had to go back into the storm and find him? That would double the risk level for Newt. He would never forgive himself if he made Newt risk himself like that - if Newt got  _ hurt  _ because of him. 

And Newt would never forgive him. 

Thomas sat, shaking uncontrollably, for what seemed like hours. He didn’t know that he was crying, but he knew for sure that his head felt as if it was filled with water. He couldn’t seem to grasp what was really going on, or how he could make any difference at all in this situation. He felt hopeless and helpless. What could he do?

_ What could he do? _

Thomas kept going over awful scenarios in his head as he sat there. He kept going over the fact that Newt could be lost, or even  _ hurt.  _ He could need Thomas right now, but there was nothing he could do. There wasn’t anything he could do. 

The storm seemed to pass over as soon as it arrived. One moment, the winds were rushing against the car windows, and Thomas was unable to see through them. The next moment, the sight outside cleared. It was finally over. 

As soon as he stood to open the door, his hand almost touching the handle, the door popped open. Thomas, relief flooding through him, quickly reached out to grab Newt. 

Thomas stopped in his tracks as he caught sight of who stood there. 

It wasn’t Newt. 

Fry stood there, looking worried and filthy. He was caked in dirt - even piling up on his hair. Thomas stopped reaching out to him, freezing in place. He glanced frantically around Fry, looking everywhere, but didn’t see anyone behind him. 

He didn’t see Newt. 

“Where is everyone?” Thomas demanded, voice hoarse and scratchy. He didn’t notice Frypan’s eyes sweep over his face, shocked at how Thomas seemed to be falling apart. 

“We were all in the truck,” Frypan explained, moving to the side to let Thomas hop out. “Newt came to come get us.”

Thomas felt relief flood through him once more. He was safe. Everyone was safe. He had been freaking out about nothing. That whole hour, he had been thinking unnecessary and awful thoughts. 

Frypan didn’t move as soon as Thomas was out, even though his hand was still on the door. There was a silence as Frypan leaned around him to check inside of the truck. His face fell at the empty truck. Thomas instantly knew what was wrong. 

“Who are you looking for?” Thomas whispered, the relief once more evaporating. Dread filled its place instead, and Thomas knew exactly what name Fry was about to say before he even said it. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***FOR ALL THE COMMENTS THAT I HAVE NOT RESPONDED TO IN THE PAST WEEK:  
> I am so sorry, from the absolute bottom of my heart. I'm quickly posting this on my phone, and I WILL get to all of your comments on the previous chapter tonight when i get a chance<3 I'm so sorry again.
> 
> Sorry for the huge delay! A lot has been going on, and the days are getting a bit tougher. I’ll try my hardest to upload next week.
> 
> I have planned out only 7 or 8 more chapters left, so we are kind of? coming to a close!
> 
> Only one more chapter of the storm left then back to our regular sad stuff. Sorry for dragging it on, but it’s been so much easier for me to write. It gives me a bit of time to focus on the other two parts.
> 
> I’m so sorry for lagging on answering comments. I am beyond thankful for every single one and every single one makes my whole day, and I can’t thank you all enough. You’re the most kind and wonderful people, and I’m so lucky to have all of you here. I’ve just been going through some things lately and every free moment that I have when I’m not at work or school has been dedicated to sleeping, since I’ve been feeling not that great. But, as always, your comments mean everything to me. I love hearing from all of you.
> 
> I hope everyone is having an amazing week, and continues to do so. <3 you all mean the world to me.
> 
>  
> 
> I’m sorry this fic sucks.  
> All my love,  
> amy


	13. too busy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> this song inspired this chapter, and played on repeat.
> 
> youth - daughter
> 
>  
> 
> "the lovers that went wrong."
> 
>  
> 
> *unedited, I apologize. 
> 
> -

 

 

**PRESENT DAY**

 

Their peace - their final moment of peace - lasted only a day.

It was a day after the crank incident, and everything was very much the same...but also very different. Newt seemed to finally understand where they stood in the whole “feelings” thing, and Thomas was grateful. There hadn’t been anything there in the first place for Newt, and he couldn’t expect anything to pop out out of the blue. He didn’t want Newt feeling pressured or anything of that sort. He just wanted Newt in his life, even if it’s not the way that he dreamed of. That was all that he could ask for.

Being in love with Newt...hurt. Knowing that there wasn’t a possibility that he felt the same. Knowing that Thomas’s heart clenched in on itself every time the sun smiled at him, laughed his beautiful laugh, or even brushed his hair to the side.

But, there wasn’t enough time to think about that. There was enough time to enjoy the peace.

Of course there wasn’t.

It had only been a day since the crank incident, and Thomas knew he should have seen it coming.

Despite the mutual acceptance between him and Newt, there was something in the air that didn’t quite sit right with him. He was finally at ease in his heart, but his mind was a wreck. Why did it feel like something was about to happen?

It was the night after the crank incident, and Thomas and Newt were sleeping soundly next to each other. They weren’t as close as Thomas wanted to be, but he could live with that. He could live with this. He could handle anything if it meant that Newt was happy, healthy, and safe.

Everyone woke up, gasping for air, when they heard a scream outside. It seemed to puncture right through Thomas’s dream, popping the peaceful bubble that he had been in. The scream was one of panic, and everyone knew exactly what was happening before they went outside.

There had to be more of them.

Sonya was on guard, and Thomas was shocked to have heard a scream from her. It wasn’t like her to freak out - he had worked that out even from the short time he had known her.

_“Teresa!”_

Thomas had jumped to his feet at the sound of her scream, dread filling at the pit of his stomach. He glanced to his side to make sure that Newt was in here, safe, before he made any move to the door. His eyes met with those gorgeous brown ones for just a split second before he allowed himself to investigate the situation. Newt, and the rest of their group, rushed to the door. It was deja vu from last night, and Thomas felt helpless. He hated The Scorch. He hated everything about this damn earth.

The sight that met Thomas’s eyes was something that he had never expected. Across the small lawn, Teresa was slowly pulling the small gate open, almost as if she was in a trance. She stood there, feet bare and her hair a mess, and faced what was on the other side. There were figures moving in the distance, walking back and forth in a pacing motion.

There was a hoard. It was unlike anything Thomas had seen before. There had to be at least 20 that he was looking at through the gate. They hadn’t even seemed to register the scream - hadn’t even registered the sound of the gate. They had been too far - way down the block - but could easily reach them very soon.

A few couldn’t push through the gate, but a hoard definitely could.

“I fell asleep! I’m so sorry, I fell asleep and I woke up to the sound of the gate and she-” Sonya's panicked rambling was cut off by Teresa fully opening the gate. Sonya was in tears as she watched the brunette slowly walk right through the gate.

“Teresa, you better get back-” Aris’s words were cut off by Teresa glancing over her shoulder. As soon as she seemed to register that everyone was there, her brown eyes widened in surprise, and she turned her head forward and began running directly toward the hoard.

“Fuck that, she’s going to get herself-” Gally then was interrupted by Thomas.

Thomas acted on instinct. He launched himself forward.

 _“Thomas!”_ Newt yelled after him, sounding panicked. Thomas felt the graze of a hand on his arm, attempting to snatch him backward. Before Newt could grab him, though, Thomas was already sprinting across the grass and toward the now open gate.

Teresa had saved two of his best friends.

It was her turn to be saved.

_“Please don’t-”_

_“Thomas!”_

Newt and Minho’s cries were swallowed up by the sound of Thomas’s heavy breathing. He passed through the gate, lungs heaving, as he ran. He had never run so fast before, he was sure of it. Even though she had had a head start, the retreating form of Teresa was slowly growing closer.

The hoard still hadn’t noticed them. They were obviously feeding on something - even fighting one another to get their dinner. Thomas could hear their snarling and growling from here.

Teresa was getting too close to them, though.

Thomas pushed himself even more - pushing himself way beyond his abilities. His lungs were aching - his body on fire. He couldn’t let this stupid girl die. Not after everything. Not after everyone that had already died on his watch.

_"You're almost there, Thomas."_

Chuck.

Chuck's voice floated into his head. 

In the distance behind him, Thomas could hear someone running after him. He knew automatically that it was Minho - the old lead of the runners back in The Glade. No one could run as fast as Minho.

He finally reached Teresa. As soon as reached her, he wrapped his arms around her, effectively preventing her from getting any further. She struggled against his hold. Her arms, pinned to her sides by his grip, attempted to break free. Her heard tilted back to look up at him - eyes wide.

“Let me go, Thomas! Let me-”

Thomas heard Minho shout behind him, almost reaching them.

 _“Thomas watch-!”_ Minh's voice stopped dead as soon as Thomas felt pain exploding on his shoulder. His _bad_ shoulder.

The shoulder that Janson had stabbed.

He knew automatically what had happened. Without hesitating, he shoved Teresa away from his body. He turned, now face to face with the crank.

It was an older man. He had to have been in his late 70’s, wrinkles and grey hair to match. One of his eyes was missing - a huge gaping hole where it should have been. As Thomas looked at the crank, its mouth fell open in a growl before launching itself at Thomas once more.

Thomas froze in fear. He didn’t even raise his arms to defend himself.

He had been _bitten._

_"Come on Thomas, move!"_

Chuck again. 

Why was Chuck's voice in his head?

The crank was shoved roughly to the side - thrown to the ground. Before Thomas could react, before he could even say a thank you, Minho raised a boot and stomped down on the skull of the crank. It cracked like an egg under his forceful stomp - effectively killing the crank in a second.

Thomas had always been so envious of Minho. Minho always kept a level head - he never froze up or cried. Minho was always so brave. 

The same feeling - the feeling that he got when he was too overwhelmed - was leaving his vision and his thoughts blurry.

_He was bitten._

_He was bitten._

Thomas suddenly felt someone run into him, quickly wrapping their hands around his body and pulling him away from the crank. The scent of vanilla filled his nose - breaking him from the trance that he had been in. His eyes peeled away from the crank to look up at his other savior. 

“We have to go, Thomas. _Right now.”_

Thomas let Newt pull him back toward the shack. Newt’s hand wrapped around his elbow, pulling him along. As they ran, pain causing his shoulder to throb, Thomas looked over his shoulder at the hoard. A few had caught sight of them, but most of them were still feasting on whatever they had found. About five had begun to slowly walk toward them, growling and snarling. The dead one lay on the floor behind them. 

Minho was running behind them, dragging a sobbing Teresa by the arm. They were both watching Thomas as they ran, but both had completely opposite expressions. Minho's was fear and anger. Teresa, tears dripping down her cheeks, and an unspoken apology on her face.

 

-

 

Teresa and Minho had seen him get bitten. Newt had gotten there too late, and had no idea what had happened. Thomas truly hoped it would stay that way. He didn’t want the blonde to worry.

Yes, Thomas was immune. But not everyone knew that. They wouldn’t believe him. If it got out that he was bitten, they would definitely try to kill him. Why would they all believe a man they had just met? What good was his word? Anyone that would get bitten would claim to be immune as well.

The rest of the group was inside, giving Thomas some time to cool down. They all seemed to realize that he was going through something right now, and they all wanted to keep an eye on Teresa. It was chaos when they had gotten back, but Gally and Fry seemed to automatically know that more was going on than what they had let on. They had known Thomas and Minho for too long. The look on their faces didn’t have anything to do with Teresa attempting to kill herself.

Thomas and Minho were standing outside, waiting for Newt to get back with a glass of water. Newt had refused to leave Thomas's side, so Minho had insisted that Newt should go get one for Thomas, but Thomas knew that it was much more than making sure he was hydrated. Rage was boiling deep within Minho - his eyes boring holes into his. As soon as Newt rounded the corner to go back into the shack, Minho rounded on him. He stood in his face, body seeming to enlarge with rage.

As Minho tried to speak, eyes flashing in the darkness, Thomas interrupted him.

“Don’t tell anyone, _please,_ Minho. It doesn’t matter. I’ll be fine.”

Minho scoffed, shaking his head. He ran his hands through his hair roughly - causing it to stand on end. He looked more pissed than Thomas had ever seen him. “After everything - after _all she did_ and you risk your life? You risk your life for that bitch, and you go ahead and get bitten,” Minho growled, stepping into his face once more. “I’m not losing anyone else. Got it? Not after Newt.”

Thomas took a step back, guilt hitting him. He couldn’t have imagined how Minho, Gally and Fry would feel by him running off towards a hoard of cranks. He had been selfish - only thinking of his own guilty conscious. How would they have felt if he got himself killed? So many of their friends had died already, and they didn’t have Newt fully back either.

What had he been thinking?

“Minho, I’m immune, remember? It won’t -”

There was a soft sound of something hitting the dirt behind them. Thomas and Minho wheeled around. Newt stood there, eyes wide with fear. His hand was still raised, the cup that he had been holding had hit the ground, water spraying everywhere.

 _“Bitten?”_ Newt whispered, pain and fear in his voice. Even in the single word, Thomas could hear his heartbreak. Guilt swept through him once more, threatening to overtake him. Why did he always fuck everything up?

“Newt,” Thomas whispered, shaking his head. The look on Newt’s face left his chest aching. “It’s not...I’m immune. I promise. I’m going to be alright.”

Minho scoffed, obviously still furious with Thomas. He turned away from him, passing Newt without another word. The sound of the shack door slamming behind them rang through the dark night. 

“Newt -” Thomas pleaded.

“Don’t,” Newt whispered, his face looking as broken as his voice sounded. His hand dropped limply to his side. “Don’t say anything, Thomas. I _knew_ you had feelings for her.”

“Are you serious?” Thomas demanded, scoffing. That's what Newt was thinking of right now? His back was almost pressing against the shack wall, but at Newt’s ridiculous statement, he took a step towards him. “That’s not it at all.”

“Then what was it?” Newt demanded, sarcasm and hurt beginning to twist together. He was shaking his head, his cheeks and nose pink from the cold. His eyes seemed to look more glossy than usual. “You just think she’s a great friend and didn’t want to lose her?”

“I couldn’t have anyone else die on my watch,” Thomas whispered, unable to help his emotions push forward. Newt’s eyes squinted at his words, obviously shocked. Those brown eyes were holding back tears as best as they could.

“You weren’t at fault for what happened to me,” Newt whispered back, shaking his head. “You weren’t-”

“You don’t know that! I’m the whole fucking reason we’re out here! Everything’s my fault! Alby, Chuck, Winston, _you!_ It’s all my fault! I couldn’t have anyone else die because of me.” Thomas’s voice was shaky, but confident. His emotions were pushing closer and closer to the surface.

Newt took a deep breath. He looked away from Thomas, eyes sweeping downward and staring at the cup that he had dropped. The night sky seemed to press between them - the silence overwhelming.

Almost as if a switch had turned on, Newt was angry again. In a split second, he had walked straight up into Thomas’s face. There was still hurt on his face despite his rage, almost as if all of his emotions couldn’t catch up to one another.

“You were stupid enough to go after her, though, right Thomas?” Newt practically growled, running his hands through his hair in frustration. His face wasn’t just red from the cold anymore. “Don’t you fucking remember what Teresa said? How I lost my mind when I thought I had lost you? How could you have done that to me? To Frypan? To Gally? To Minho? You’re so fucking _selfish!”_

Newt’s harsh words and intense rage caused Thomas to gasp. He sucked in a deep breath, unable to take his eyes off of the chocolate ones in front of him. Newt was obviously scared right now, talking out of fear, but it didn’t mean that his words didn’t hurt. Thomas’s hand formed into fists at his sides, trying to control their shaking.

“Just like when you fucking stung yourself with that Griever, right? _Bloody hell,_ Tommy, it’s like you go asking for-”

Thomas’s blood ran cold.

Newt stopped talking as soon as he had started. Thomas watched the blood drain from Newt’s face, his mouth snapping shut. Newt glanced up at him, shocked. Those brown eyes seemed to stare right into his soul.

That was something they hadn’t told Newt. They hadn’t told him about the Griever sting. And they definitely didn’t tell Newt that he called Thomas _“Tommy”._ Newt couldn’t remember his name before seeing him, and he sure as hell didn’t make it up right now in this moment. That much was certain - all by the look on his face.

His memories came back through dreams. Never randomly like this. Never during the daytime.

_Tommy._

_He remembered._

Thomas couldn’t help the gasp that he took, a deep and shaky breath that seemed to rattle deep in his bones. His whole body seemed to be vibrating in adrenaline.

_Tommy._

Their eyes, locked on each other, seemed to reach the same understanding at the same time.

In the next instant, before Thomas could even process what was happening, Newt’s fingers were curled into the hair on the back of his head, and his lips were on his.

Thomas’s back slammed against the shack, Newt colliding into him. Thomas wound his arms around Newt, his hands grabbing hold of the fabric on the back of Newt’s t-shirt. He could hear his heartbeat in his ear - could _feel_ his heavy breathing. Newt’s body against his, soft and warm, caused his brain to kick into a frenzy.

Newt’s lips, soft and warm, parted for Thomas. Thomas fervently deepened the kiss, clutching onto him pathetically. Newt gently tilted his head, determined to match Thomas’s passion.

This kiss, unlike the one in his dream, was rushed, rough, and fast. It caused his legs to go weak. Newt’s lips against his were _intoxicating._ It was unlike anything he could have imagined. The dream didn’t do it justice.

Clumsily, Thomas began to deepen the kiss even more. Newt gasped when he felt Thomas’s tongue briefly press against his bottom lip. Newt caught the hint, and as clumsy and as inexperienced as Thomas was, curled his tongue against Thomas’s between their kisses. The taste of Newt, and how hot, smooth, and wet his tongue was, caused Thomas’s knees to shake even more.

Newt, realizing that Thomas was slowly losing his balance, pressed himself even more against his body. The connection of their bodies was rough and determined, and it caused Thomas to gasp into the blondes mouth.

Newt’s grip on him was firm, almost as if he was afraid that something would disrupt them again. Thomas was determined not to let anything like that happen. The world could be ending, and he wouldn’t pull away from Newt. Not this time. He held him close, pressing himself against him. The scent of him - his signature vanilla - was overwhelming and powerful.

This was really happening. Thomas couldn’t believe it.

_He remembered._

_He remembered._

He remembered, and wanted to kiss Thomas. After all of these months, after the hell that Thomas had to go through the past few months, and Newt was here in front of him. _Kissing him._ His Newt, his old Newt, was back.

His Newt was back and wanted to kiss him.

The feelings that Thomas felt for Newt were actually being reciprocated.

_“I don’t think everyone realizes that you don’t share the same feelings for Teresa.”_

Frypan’s words rang in his head. He hoped that Newt finally realized that it was never Teresa. It was _never_ Teresa.

It was always Newt.

Always.

“You have no idea how long,” Thomas gasped between kisses, between the blonde’s _tongue_ \- “I’ve been wanting to do this.”

Newt breathed a laugh into Thomas’s mouth, fingers playfully tugging at his hair. He kissed him one more time before breathing a response against Thomas’s lips.

“I can’t wait to remember how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

Thomas froze.

_What?_

Thomas’s blood ran cold, hairs on the back of his neck standing up on end. The close proximity, the lips suddenly back on his, was too overwhelming. He felt claustrophobic - unable to breathe.

He didn’t remember.

Thomas shoved Newt away roughly, unable to help himself. He didn’t mean to be so rough - so insensitive - but he couldn’t breathe. _He couldn’t breathe._

Newt roughly landed on his butt on the floor, looking up at Thomas in shock and with hurt. Thomas began gasping, guilt and sadness overwhelming him.  He felt himself breathing, felt his chest heaving, but it wasn’t enough. His lungs burned, and his body began shaking.

“Newt? Thomas?”

The sound of Harriet’s voice brought Thomas back to reality. He heard multiple footsteps rounding the corner, and realized what they would see. They would see Newt on the floor, and Thomas about to have a panic attack.

It was all too much.

Thomas’s claustrophobic feeling didn’t sway. It felt as if someone had their hands around his throat, attempting to suffocate the life out of him.

He had to get away from here.

 _“Thomas!”_ Harriet yelled as he sprinted past her. He heard the sound of a gun cocking behind him, and suddenly a lot of yelling. He hit the tree line and continued past it - lungs threatening to burst on him. His breathing wasn’t coming out right - _nothing_ was right about this moment. Everything was fucked up.

“No, no _stop!_ Don’t do anything! It’s my fault!” Newt shouted, sounding panicked and desperate. His voice was much closer than Harriet’s had been. Thomas could hear him chasing after him - could hear his footsteps behind him.

_Get away from me._

He didn’t. Newt caught up quickly, grabbing onto Thomas’s arm roughly and yanking him to a halt. Thomas let out a sob, reaching down and desperately tried to pry off Newt’s hand. Newt dropped his hand, but didn’t move away from him.

“Thomas please _,_ this is so hard knowing you want this too-”

“Not with you,” Thomas gasped, his tears blurring his vision. He reached up and grabbed onto his hair, his anxiety reaching the highest peak that it had been in a while.

“That’s not fair,” Newt whispered, his voice thick with emotion. Thomas couldn’t see him through the haziness in his mind.

“You’re not mine. You never will be. Everything that we’ve gone through, all the pain and _suffering_ \- you won’t ever feel their effects. When I look at you, I feel so  _alone!_ It's like everything that has happened between us has completely fucking vanished. All of our memories are just...they're just  _mine_ now. You’re not the person I suffered out here with. You’re not _my_ person.”

“I can be, Thomas, I swear I’ll remember one day. I will try my absolute fucking _hardest-”_

“This world will never be the same. So much shit had happened to it. And me? I’ll never be the same either. I’ve been put through hell. I’m fucked up now, so _fucked up_ , and I can never heal. We couldn’t start over, because since you have forgotten, you don’t carry the same demons as me anymore. You’re... _pure now.”_ Thomas closed his eyes briefly in pain. He couldn't stand seeing Newt's heartbroken face. “You don’t know what we have seen - what we have had to go through in this hell. We are two different people now. I’m fucked up, and you’re so pure, and it’s not _fair_ of me to be in love with you.”

Newt shook his head, a deep sadness taking over his face. Thomas hadn't meant to say that out loud. He wished more than anything that he could take it back. The hope and heartbreak that flashed across Newt’s face was too much to handle.

“Thomas, these fucking intense feelings I have for you cannot be from meeting you a month ago. That’s not possible. Whatever person I was before, whoever I was before, I was in love with you, too. I swear to you that I was in love with-”

Thomas took a step back, unable to believe the words he had just heard. There was no way. He didn’t know what he was talking about. His chest ached, his lungs burned, and his mind was a jumbled mess.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean. _Please don’t-”_

Newt took a step toward him, trying to close the distance, but Thomas just stepped back even more.

“Say things I don’t mean?!” Newt was frustrated - his voice sounding desperate and hurt. “Thomas, every day out here before I met you, I was lost. Every day, I felt something missing. A half of me was missing. Sure, it was also the rest of the guys, but it was _you._ You were my missing piece. When I saw you, I knew. _I knew_ I wasn’t imagining things. I knew I wasn’t losing my mind all of these months for no reason.”

 _“You’ll never be him.”_ Thomas knew that he was being unfair to Newt- but he couldn’t help it. His mind felt full of water - the fuzziness in his brain overwhelming him. He couldn’t feel the cold air around them - couldn’t feel _anything._ His hands gripped pathetically at his skin, as if he wanted to pull it off of him. The claustrophobia was too much to handle. He wanted to escape from himself.

He couldn’t feel anything but the pain in his chest.

He had gotten his hopes up. He had really thought that his Newt was back.

“Tommy, please-”

 _“Don’t!”_ Thomas gasped. He felt his knees give out, and felt himself slam against the dirt below him. He felt his panic attack rearing up and finally taking full control. _He couldn’t breathe_ . _“Don’t fucking call me that!”_

He heard Minho’s voice.

He heard arguing - and then all went quiet.

 

 

 

 

**The Scorch**

**before**

 

_“You’re the reason we’re stuck out here in the first place.”_

Thomas couldn’t help but be heartbroken at Frypan’s words. He already felt awful - unable to get any sleep over this situation. He second guessed himself constantly, always wondering if he had made the right choice. What if he hadn’t even gone up into The Maze? Everyone would be just fine. He was the one who started everything - the one who ruined everything.

He was the one who got Chuck killed. Alby, Winston, everyone. It was all his fault. He knew it was.

There was a small campfire going, attempting to reduce the bitter cold of The Scorch. Even though they had found a safe place to rest for the night, no one seemed to remotely be in a good mood. The small argument between him and Fry had taken a toll on everyone, and the death of Winston hung over their heads in dark clouds.

Not everyone was immune. If anyone else came into contact with a crank, they might not live long enough to find a cure. There was a 50/50 chance that none of them were immune at all.

Thomas, Teresa, Newt, Frypan and Minho were all sitting around the campfire, staring into it silently as if it would give them some type of clue as to what to do next. They were all bruied and beaten - dirty beyond belief. Not only that, but they were stranded out here with no place to turn to. They had no food, they were running out of water, and it was _all Thomas’s fault._

Guilt overtaking him, Thomas decided to take some time to himself. Without looking at anyone else, without letting them know what he was doing, he pushed himself off from the ground and stepped around the campfire. He slowly walked out of their site, deciding to find a small mound of sand to sit on. He wanted to have a clear view of The Scorch as he took some time, the traumatizing experiences that they had just been through fresh on his mind.

As soon as Thomas had sat down, he pulled out the small relic that Chuck had given him. Thomas felt the same overwhelming feeling of guilt and sadness run through him. It was all his fault. _Everything was his fucking fault._

Thomas slowly closed his eyes, fingers tracing over the small wooden sculpture. He didn’t care if any cranks got to him in this moment. He couldn’t care less. He knew that Chuck’s parents weren’t out there, and it broke his heart. None of their parents were. It was obvious to see that the whole world had turned to absolute shit because of The Flare. Nothing had been saved. There couldn’t be anything else out there, and they would surely die slowly out here in The Scorch.

There was a noise behind him - someone walking up to him. God, he hoped it wasn’t Teresa. He didn’t think he could handle her right now. He hoped it wasn’t Fry either, as he wasn’t ready to face him yet. He wasn’t ready to face anyone right now.

There was more shuffling, and the person approaching made themselves comfortable next to Thomas. He felt them sit at his side, a warmth suddenly engulfing him. He knew exactly who it was before he opened his eyes. When he did, though, he caught sight of his best friend. Newt’s hair was incredibly messy, and his chocolate eyes looked tired. He was covered in dirt, his brown jacket ripped at the elbow. Thomas’s chest ached as Newt sighed, looking down at the wooden sculpture in Thomas’s hands.

“You haven’t slept a wink since we left The Maze, have you?” Newt muttered, eyes not meeting Thomas’s. The simple sound of his best friend’s voice seemed to have a wave of relief wash through him. No, everything wasn’t okay right now, but somehow Thomas knew it would be. With someone like Newt in his life, how could it not be?

Thomas turned the relic in his hands, examining the other side of it. He didn’t say anything, not knowing if his words would choke him up. He didn’t think he could talk just yet.

“I’m sorry about Frypan,” Newt said again, his voice low and comforting. “He was just letting off steam, though, you know. We are all frustrated and tired. He didn’t mean it.”

“He’s right though,” Thomas muttered, voice shaking. Newt glanced up at him then, but Thomas didn’t dare meet his gaze. He felt his lips shaking - a small but hopefully unnoticeable motion. “I’m the reason we’re stuck out here. It’s all my fault.”

“No,” Newt muttered, voice still low. He seemed more confident now, though, the tiredness seeming to slip away. Newt reached out slowly, covering Thomas’s hand on the wooden sculpture with his own. His intention to have Thomas’s fingers stop their anxious motions worked. His hands were warm, comforting, and soft. He was surprised that they were as soft as they were, due to the insane life that they lived. “No, you’re the reason we’re free. It’s all thanks to you, Thomas. You are the best leader. You’re everything we could have dared ask for.”

Thomas shook his head, not believing a word. He didn’t know how Newt could possibly believe in him so much - how he could have so much _faith_ in him. He constantly messed up. He didn’t know what he was doing. He doubted he ever would.

Newt seemed to sense his doubts. His thumb began softly stroking the back of Thomas’s hand. He ran his thumb in slow circles, somehow exactly knowing what Thomas needed even when he didn’t know himself. Thomas couldn’t help but close his eyes once more. Somehow, the simple motion was calming him, but had his mind racing at the same time. “They would follow you anywhere. _I_ would follow you anywhere. And you know that. I’m not going anywhere. None of us are.”

Thomas, eyes still closed, shook his head once more. How could Newt make him feel so special, when he was just describing himself? Newt’s motions on his hand didn’t waver.

“They’d follow you too, you know. I’m not the leader here,” Thomas muttered, hand shaking under Newt’s. He was thankful that it was propped against his knee, or he was sure it would have been trembling dramatically. “You’re the one holding us all together.”

“No,” Newt muttered. “It’s different with me, though. You know it is. You’re...different. You’re something else entirely.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” Thomas whispered, feeling the tears welling underneath his closed eyes. “You’re so much more than you think, Newt. How could you ever think otherwise?”

Newt’s thumb stilled. Thomas was worried that he had said the wrong thing when he felt a slight shake in Newt’s hand over his.

“Look, we all have our roles to play. Yours is our leader. You’re the man for the job, Tommy, and we’re bloody lucky to have you. I...we wouldn’t have it any other way.” Newt’s hand was still slightly shaking.

Thomas didn’t think, as he always did, as he turned his hand over. Opening his eyes, he took the relic out of the hand that Newt was still clutching onto. He held the relic in his free hand, and flipped his other hand gently over so that Newt’s palm met with his. His fingers slid through the blonde’s, intertwining them. Newt took a few moments to return the gesture, hand shaking even more now.

The warmth that spread through Thomas was immediate. It flowed through him, just like the cold breeze of The Scorch. He could see Newt staring at their hands in his peripheral vision.

“Newt, I don’t know where we’re going,” Thomas whispered, the tears still threatening to spill over. Newt glanced up at him, but Thomas ignored his gaze once more. “I don’t know if I can do this. We’re lost. _I’m_ lost.”

There was a pause. Thomas could feel those brown eyes boring a hole into the side of his face.

“We’ve been lost before.”

Thomas scoffed sadly. The cold breeze suddenly picked up, as if they picked up on Thomas’s sadness. He waited for the strong, freezing breeze to pass before speaking once more.

“Yeah, not like this.”

Newt paused once more, as if he was mulling over his words. Newt was always so careful with what he said, and Thomas envied him for it. Thomas hadn’t registered when he had begun to rub circles into the palm of Newt’s hand, but he had somehow begun to do so. He watched the motion carefully, as it it wasn’t him doing so at all.

“There is a place for us out there, somewhere,” Newt whispered, voice hesitant and shaky. “I don’t know where it is...but I know that an awful lot of our friends have died for us to get this far. And so we can’t give up. _You_ can’t give up. I won’t let you.”

Thomas finally turned to look at Newt then, finally meeting his gaze. Newt was staring at him with a look that Thomas couldn’t place, and the blonde didn’t turn away. His expression was soft, and vulnerable.

“You promise?” Thomas whispered, unable to break eye contact. Just looking at his friend gave him hope and courage. He couldn’t help it.

“Promise that there’s a place for us somewhere?” Newt asked softly, eyes still on Thomas’s.

“Promise me that you won’t let me give up,” Thomas whispered back - so gently that he was sure that his voice had been swallowed up by the night sky around them. He was proved wrong, though, when Newt’s face broke into one of sadness. His vulnerability seemed to deepen - opening himself up to Thomas as he had never done before.

“I promise you, Tommy. I swear to you with everything I have. I will never let you give up.”

The words seemed to strike a chord inside of Thomas. He wanted to reach out and hug Newt. He wanted to thank him, even though he was awful with his words. Above all, he wanted to prove to Newt that he would do the same to him.

“You know I would do the same,” Thomas muttered, eyes still locked on his. Newt smiled a small smile at him, only his eyes crinkling slightly.

“Of course,” Newt whispered, voice so low that Thomas barely caught it. Newt slowly tilted his head, almost as if he was thinking of something. He glanced down at their intertwined fingers - Thomas’s thumb still rubbing circles against his palm.

“Do you want to talk about Winston?” Thomas asked, suddenly remembering what had happened today. He was so caught up in the moment - and he couldn’t believe that he had almost forgotten.

Newt stayed silent for a moment. He smiled down sadly at their hands.

“Not tonight,” Newt muttered, the smile still playing at his lips. His blonde hair ruffled with a sudden gust of wind, and Thomas wanted to pull him close. “But thank you.”

“I’m here for you, always. Remember that,” Thomas muttered, eyes still on the side of Newt’s face. Newt didn’t look up at him then, but continued to stare down at their hands. His cheeks and nose were pink from the cold. With the sudden color that blossomed across his nose, Thomas could distinctly see a patch of dirt on it. It was on the side of his nose, across the bridge.

Thomas was too caught up in the moment. He knew he was, but he didn’t seem to be able to control himself.

Thomas’s hand clutched the wooden sculpture in his hand for comfort before slowly placing it on the ground next to him. Without his consent, his now free hand reached upward towards Newt.

His fingers, as gently as he could, reached up and gently wiped off the dirt from his nose. Newt had inhaled sharply, eyes widening. Thomas realized what he had done - how caught up in the moment he was - only when it was too late. Newt stood suddenly, as if Thomas had electrocuted him with his touch. His hand slipped from Thomas’s, and he moved away from him.

Thomas’s hand slowly dropped, embarrassment flooding through him.

“Come on, let’s get some sleep, yeah?”

Newt turned without another word, and walked back to the campsite. Thomas watched after him helplessly, until the dark night completely swallowed him up. Thomas couldn’t stop the tears from overflowing, then.

He always fucked everything up, didn’t he?

Thomas had no idea that in that moment, Newt’s mind was racing. He felt as if that was a _moment -_ that was definitely a moment...wasn’t it? He couldn’t be imagining it this time. This had to be something, right?

The way that Thomas was looking at him, the way that he stared into his eyes as if Newt was his beacon of hope, left him breathless and left his knees weak. How impossibly soft his touches were, and how he seemed to do it without his knowledge, lead Newt to genuinely believe that this was finally a _moment._

Newt, in this moment, suddenly realized that he was helplessly in love with Thomas. As soon as Thomas had reached up, fingers impossibly gentle against his skin, the sudden realization came crashing down like a ton of bricks. It happened in a split second - and a split second only. It was as if a bolt of lighting had shot down, and showed him what was right in front of his eyes this whole time.

He was helplessly in love with Thomas, and he knew that Thomas would always be too busy to notice.

 

 

 

**the storm**

**final**

 

Newt was panicking.

He _heard_ the crank. He heard it, but he couldn’t see it. Everyone else was safely in the trunk - he had successfully helped them. He had finally saved everyone else. It didn’t seem like he was going to get out of this unscathed, though. It didn’t seem like he was going to be able to save himself.

The wind had begun to die down, but Newt didn’t dare open his eyes. His throat felt as if it was caked in dirt - his lungs filled with it as well. His ears worked perfectly fine, though, and could _hear_ the crank. He could hear the growling, shrieking and spitting - could hear it getting closer.

_How could he have lost contact with the truck?_

Newt had finally pushed Brenda inside of the truck, but quickly retreated when he had heard the crank. Because of the wind, he couldn't hear what direction it had been coming from. Realizing his mistake, he had tried to reach back out for the truck, but couldn't find purchase.

It was an undeniable noise - it was nothing like he had ever heard before. There was no confusing that noise with anything else.

And it was _too close._

He had to get to the truck.  _Now._

The wind made it impossible to know which direction the crank was coming from, the growling seeming to come from all directions. Newt prayed that there wasn’t more than one. They didn’t travel in packs, but for all his luck, they would be right now.

Newt quickly began walking forward, reaching out blindly. _He had to get to back to the truck._

He knew everyone was safe, and that was all that mattered. He knew _Thomas_ was safe. He knew that Thomas would listen to his threat and stay put - he wasn’t stupid enough to run back into the storm like Newt had been.

Newt found purchase of something, his arm outstretched, and his heart leapt into his throat. It had to be the truck - he had walked back toward the direction that it was in. It had to be -

It wasn’t the truck.

Hands grabbed at his forearm, and Newt _knew._

A pain unlike anything he had ever felt before ripped through his forearm. The hands on him dug in roughly, but the pain of the bite was so much worse.

In that second, before he could even react, Newt knew.

_It was over._

Newt kicked out, hitting the body in front of him. The crank stayed latched on, still attempting to take a huge bite of his arm. Frantically, pain still exploding in his arm, Newt began kicking the crank as hard as he could. He couldn't tell exactly which part of the crank that he was kicking, still unable to see, but it finally worked. Successfully shoving the crank away, the pain in his forearm lessened.

Before he could wait for another attack, he turned and ran in the opposite direction. He clutched his damaged forearm, unable to wrap his head around what had just happened.

Newt didn’t stop running until his lungs couldn’t take it anymore. He fell to the ground as soon as the winds began to slow to a halt, his legs and body aching from the attack of the crank and the stress of running.

Newt lay there, unable to find the physical or mental strength to stand back up. His throat, chest, and head ached. His _forearm_ ached. Fuck, it burned.

He had wanted to die for so long. He had _hoped_ that something like this would happen. He had been so disappointed when the jump off that damn wall had failed.

Newt never thought that he could have wanted to live. He never thought that even for a second he would want to live in this hell of a world for the rest of his life.

But then...Thomas came into his life.

Newt had never felt so much hope before Thomas. He had never expected to be truly _happy._ He had never expected to want to live as long as he could. He never thought he would have been grateful that his attempt to take his life hadn't been successful.

And now...

The winds, weaker but still blowing, ruffled his clothes and his hair. The dirt was swirling around him as he lay still, threatening to cover him completely.

 _It was over._  

 

-

 

It took only a moment for Thomas to lose his damn mind. If he thought he had been going through it in the Jeep, he was dead wrong. _This_ was losing it. _This_ was the absolute worst feeling in the world.

He didn’t remember looking for Newt. All he could remember was frantically running - running faster than he ever had before. He remembered how it felt to have his brain filled with so many thoughts that he couldn’t form a single one. He couldn’t breathe. He remembered not breathing.

It took them two hours to find Newt.

Two hours of Thomas losing his mind.

Frypan was the one who found him. Thomas had been running toward the direction that Frypan had gone, still frantically searching, when something in the distance caught his eye.

Newt was leaning against Fry as they walked, head hung low. He was covered in so much dirt that Thomas couldn't even recognize him. He was dragging his feet - Frypan practically having to pull him forward on his own. At the sight of Thomas, Frypan’s panic seemed to ease up the slightest bit. He gave Thomas a small nod, as if assuring him that Newt was okay. 

Thomas didn’t remember reaching them. He didn't remember reaching out and snatching Newt from Fry. He didn't remember how, but he was suddenly holding Newt. His arms were wrapped around the blonde, holding him tighter than he ever had before. The dirt from his body transferred to Thomas, but he couldn't care less.

Newt was slouched into his body, forehead pressed against his neck, and his breathing ragged.

“You’re not disposable,” Thomas sobbed, head tilting down into Newt’s. He wasn’t sure the blonde could hear him - wasn’t sure it even matter in this moment. He would say it again and again until Newt got it through his thick skull. “You’re not disposable. You’re the whole world to all of us. You could never be disposable.”

Newt didn’t answer him, but instead let Thomas cry into his hair. The blonde was breathing deeply, his breath fanning across Thomas's neck. Thomas was so reassured by the feeling of his breathing - so thankful that he was alive. 

Newt was only half awake, exhaustion overwhelming him.

The pain in his forearm blocked any possibility of sleep.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was unedited, I'm sorry :( 
> 
> this was my favorite chapter of this fic, hands down.  
> also......sorry for the craziness of it :/)
> 
> I know that Thomas is being unfair to Newt. THOMAS knows Thomas is being unfair to Newt. I’m just trying to take a more realistic turn on his emotions toward Newt and this situation. Everyone handles things differently, and Thomas has been heartbroken for months. He truly doesn’t think Newt cared about him (he was too busy to notice) and he thinks he must be influencing this Newt. And he genuinely got his hopes up thinking that the old Newt was back, but he wasn’t. He has missed him for months, and is so confused about this Newt. Poor baby. I know he’s being unfair, but this will be over soon and everything will work out soon :)
> 
> I'm also sorry for lagging on responding. I never want to rush responding, or half ass it, so I love to sit down and take my time. I don't have that much free time now, though, so sometimes it takes me a while. All of your comments deserve all of my attention, and I'm so fucking thankful for all of them. <3 I would never want to rush a response on my phone, because all of you don't do that to me, and you all deserve the world <3
> 
> the happy part is for Aga, obviously. <3  
> I hope you have an amazing trip <3 
> 
> idk if you all would care, but I found my old wattpad account from when I was 14 (I'll NEVER give out my account name on there its so embarrassing) but the fic I wrote on there has 850,000 READS and 20,000 LIKES! I'm shocked. It was awful. I hoped none of you read it. I'd never live it down :') So weird seeing something after so many years. It wasn't about Newtmas, it was just my own awful creation.
> 
> I hope everyone is having an amazing week!<3 As always, if anyone needs to vent, I'm always here for all of you. Or if you need anyone to kick some ass, I'm here too :-) <3 I'm so thankful for everyone still taking time to read this, even though I genuinely feel like it's not great. You are all such wonderful people and wonderful friends, and I'm hands down the luckiest person on ao3 <3
> 
>  
> 
> ***PLEASE NOTE!  
> I’m not sure about my upload next week. I have jury duty on Monday and 2 essays due on Wednesday...so... I’m sorry if I can’t upload next week :( 
> 
> all my love,  
> amy xxxxxxxxxx


	14. I swear to you with everything I have

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> UNEDITED :(  
> my apologies everyone :(

 

**PRESENT DAY**

 

Thomas found himself sleeping on Gally’s bed for the rest of the night. It took him a long time to calm down - _very_ late into the night - and he even slept right through the morning. He felt guilty, and exhausted.

He knew he wasn’t being fair to Newt. He knew it wasn’t Newt’s fault, and he didn’t deserve to be treated the way Thomas had been treating him. The overwhelming past few months, and him getting his hopes up when he thought Newt had remembered, really hurt him. It hurt like nothing had before. Even the “passing” of Newt in some ways hurt less than this. When he thought Newt had died, the Newt that had died still shared all of the same memories. Somewhere, that Newt was waiting, memories in tact and ready to share them with him again when they finally reunited.

Newt now, though, was confusing. Newt saying he was in love with him was something Thomas had never expected. He was always too busy - always to preoccupied in his thoughts and stressing out over everything - to notice anything from Newt’s side. Sure, there might have been small moments where it _did_ seem like Newt felt the same, but he was never quite sure. He always felt like it had been his imagination - always a trick of his mind. He never thought otherwise.

When Thomas finally woke, he was alone. There was a dim light coming in through the window, and he could see dust particles floating in the air. Despite everything, this morning seemed peaceful. It gave him the courage to get up - gave him the courage to start the day.

The feeling of Newt’s lips on his swept briefly through his mind. He wanted to think about it forever - he wanted it to _happen_ again. His mouth had been so soft and warm, and Thomas wanted to get lost in it.

If Newt’s memories never came back, and if this Newt wanted to be with him, could he hold himself back any longer? Should he?

Memories of Newt - Newt in The Scorch, in The Maze, in Janson’s facility - swam into his head. There was something else hidden behind those eyes. There was a different smile - a knowing smile. No matter how much this Newt cared, and no matter how much he was desperate to remember everything, their struggles would never be the same. Their memories would never be the same.

But could they overcome that?

It was almost as his thoughts caused a ringing in Newt’s ears. Before Thomas could even stand from the bed, the small door was pushed open in front of him. The blonde stood there, a small plate in his hand, and an unrecognizable expression on his face. Disappointment maybe? Thomas wasn’t sure.

Newt stared down at Thomas for a moment, eyebrows furrowed. His presence in the doorway seemed too big - too overpowering. It made Thomas nervous to speak to him, almost as if Newt was judging him. 

They both spoke up at the exact same time.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m so sorry, Newt.”

They both paused. Despite the awful circumstances, despite what Thomas had done to ruin everything yesterday, both boys couldn’t help but give a small smile to one another. Newt sighed loudly, walking those long legs over to Thomas. He sank down on the mattress in front of him and held out the small plate of food. Thomas took is gratefully, thanking him. He was careful not to touch Newt's skin, not entirely trusting himself just yet. 

Thomas didn’t eat right away, though. He gripped the plate tightly in his hands to try and calm the shaking in them. He didn’t cower from the blondes intense gaze, but instead finally matched it after a few moments of silence.

Seeing him so close, especially after finally knowing what those lips felt like on him, was an intense feeling for Thomas. His body seemed to hum in adrenaline and want. He tried his best to keep all of his thoughts and his gaze off of Newt’s mouth, and only on his eyes. The sunlight from the window illuminated his face and his hair, the small halo making its reappearance. Thomas's heart ached. He had to take a deep breath in an attempt to clear the lump in his throat. 

“I overreacted yesterday, and I didn’t mean to hurt you the way I did,” Thomas muttered, his voice shaky and uneven. Newt smiled sadly, almost as if he had already forgiven him. Those chocolate eyes didn't waver from his, but the sadness in them made Thomas want to look away. “It’s been...it’s been rough. I know it has been for you too, and I know I’m being selfish. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Newt muttered, sighing once more. He broke their gaze, looking at the plate in Thomas’s hand. He looked at it guiltily, as if he had offended the food in some way. Thomas wanted to reach out to him. “I didn’t ask permission to kiss you, and I should have. I should have thought about your feelings over mine.”

“It’s not that I didn’t want to,” Thomas admitted, looking down at the plate as well. He saw Newt’s head tilt back slightly to look at him, but he didn’t dare meet his eyes. Thomas hesitated a moment before continuing - the gaze of the blonde distracting him. “I do want to. It’s just so confusing. I went months thinking you were dead, and it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to go through. Seeing you, and…feeling the way I do, is...hard. It’s just so confusing. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” Newt muttered. He took a deep breath, as if he had to clear a lump in his throat as well. His voice was lower now - more cautious. “I just...I need to know something. Can I ask you something? I promise to drop all of this after, and we can go back to...friends.”

“Sure,” Thomas muttered, shrugging his shoulders slightly. He felt as if there was a pressure on them, holding him down and causing him to have a hard time breathing. He didn’t want to talk about all of this, but Newt _did_ deserve answers.

The soft light from the window was still spilling in, and Thomas watched Newt ring his hands together in his peripheral vision. Newt always had the most beautiful hands - long, lean fingers with soft veins. He _knew_ that his hand was soft as hell too, and it made him want to reach out and hold them. He hated seeing him wring them together in nerves. He never used to be the cause of the anxious habit, and he hated the fact that he was now.

“I know you don’t think I’ll get my memory back, but I truly bloody think that I will,” Newt said, his voice a bit more confident. Thomas didn’t say anything. Newt was right. He didn’t believe so. “So when I _do_ get my memory back, I want this. I want to do this. You and me.”

Thomas glanced up then, unable to help himself. His eyes met the chocolate ones that he loved so much, the intensity in them shocking him. Newt’s face, always so soft and boyish despite its sharper edges, looked determined. He had a passion in his eyes that Thomas hadn’t seen for a while.

When Thomas didn’t answer, Newt sighed once more. He gave Thomas another look, this time a bit desperate.

“Do you want that?” His voice was a bit shaky this time, almost as if he felt like he was getting rejected. Thomas felt guilty, knowing that it must have taken the boy so much courage to be so blunt. He had his heart on his sleeve, and Thomas wasn’t _answering._

“I’m not sure that you’ll feel the same if you get your memory back,” Thomas admitted, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest. His voice was soft, and he would be surprised if Newt heard it at all. He kept his gaze on Newt's, trying to match his courage. “You might even regret this.”

“I won’t,” Newt assured him, the hesitant look still on his face. His eyes were squinting just the slightest - a tell tale sign that he was feeling nervous. His hands were still wringing together in his lap.

“If you don’t, then yes,” Thomas muttered, taking a deep breath. Newt's eyes seemed to light up in response. “Yes, I want this.”

Newt looked overwhelmingly relieved. He seemed to keep his guard up though - as if he was still not done with his questions. “You know I’m a boy though, right?”

Thomas actually laughed loudly at that. Newt smiled hesitantly, as if he wasn’t making a joke at all. The wringing of his hands continued, and the halo was still perched on top of his messy locks. “Oh really? I had no idea.”

“No, Thomas…” Newt muttered, trying to push down his small smile. Thomas could tell that he was putting on a brave face, but was still very unsure of the situation. “I mean...as far as I know, everyone I’ve met here is...they...they’re attracted to the opposite sex. What if we get together, and you find out that you don’t like what’s under my clothes?”

Thomas was dumbfounded. It took him awhile to process what Newt was saying.

_He was assuming that Thomas wouldn’t like dick._

“I can assure you that I very much know you’re a man,” Thomas assured him, trying to be as comforting as possible. He smiled at the blonde, who still looked very worried. “You’re _you._ I couldn’t care less what’s under your clothes. Even so, though, I can promise you that I _will_ like what’s under them. I do have eyes, you know, and I _very much_ like what I see.”

As he spoke, Newt seemed to have a very difficult time suppressing his smile. He even seemed to get a bit embarrassed, cheeks and ears tinting pink.

“We would be different from everyone, though,” Newt stated, although he wasn’t half as anxious as he had been a moment ago. “You don’t think it’s wrong to be….to like the same gender?”

“We actually had this conversation before,” Thomas muttered, smiling softly at the fond memory. As he stared at Newt, lost in his beautiful eyes, he could almost feel the slight wind from that night that they spoke about this in The Scorch. He could practically see the stars from that night - the same stars littered in Newt’s eyes right now. “I’ll say the same thing I said then. ‘So what?’ What does it matter? It doesn’t matter to me. I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”

Newt’s whole posture softened, and his hands stopped their anxious movements. His eyes softened too, widening to their normal larger size. A soft smile took over his face, and Thomas’s heart flipped in his chest.

And for all Thomas knew, the stars from that night _were_ caught in Newt’s eyes. In the small space between them, they sparkled like nobody's business.

As their gazes locked, the air shifted between them.

In this moment, Thomas could swear to himself that Newt eventually _would_ get his memory back. And he believed what Newt was saying - that he wouldn’t regret a thing. The hope that swelled up inside of Thomas was intense and overwhelming.

Thomas blamed the magnetic pull that always hung suspended between them. He blamed the way Newt looked in the sunlight cast through the window, or the small sloppy smile that Newt held on his face. He blamed everything, but didn’t stop himself.

Thomas found himself being pulled forward. He slid to the edge of the mattress, his knees gently pressing into Newt’s. Newt’s eyes widened slightly, looking thoroughly confused, as Thomas slowly reached out to him.

He gently reached out to Newt’s face, the longing to be close to the blonde overpowering any sense of right and wrong. The feeling of his kisses last night - remembering the _taste_ of him - was too tempting to him. After all these months, he had finally kissed Newt. And he wanted more.

Newt still looked shocked, but now very much excited as well. Thomas cupped Newt’s face, fingers sliding into the soft blonde hair on the back of his head. His fingers curled, holding Newt’s head into place.

Newt’s gaze dropped low, eyes landing on Thomas’s lips. His eyes seemed to even turn slightly hazy, as if he was suddenly in a dream. It was as if he was just as transfixed by Thomas as Thomas was to him.

Those stars swimming in Newt’s eyes were enough to draw Thomas over the edge.

With their knees still pressing into one another's, Thomas leaned forward. He gently pulled Newt’s face to his - the warmth of his skin intoxicating. He was absolutely _transfixed,_ and he didn’t want anything more in this moment than to be _closer._

Thomas knew that Newt wanted to kiss him, but he still hesitated as they drew closer. Newt’s skin seemed to burn into his, and the soft hair in between his fingers felt like silk. This close, the familiar vanilla scent was intoxicating, and left Thomas breathless.

Although Newt’s eyes were hazy, they were locked onto Thomas’s. They were only a few inches away, and their heavy breathing seemed to intertwine in the small space between them.

Thomas, unable to hold himself back any longer, closed the distance between them. His eyes fluttered shut, and his mouth brushed against Newt’s.

The connection left immediate goosebumps against Thomas’s skin. The warmth of the blonde and the intimacy of this moment left his mind completely blank and his stomach clenching painfully. It was as if the whole world had stopped around them, and time stood still for them. Thomas felt as if he would never have another worry again in his life.

 _This,_ right here with Newt, was his Safe Haven.

He wasn’t entirely sure how Newt would respond, but he wasn’t disappointed to feel the blonde’s lips part for him without hesitation. His mouth was warm, soft, and inviting, and Thomas wanted to get lost in it. He never wanted to be found if it meant being seperated from Newt.

It was Thomas’s turn to hold onto Newt firmly - to hold onto him like the anchor that he always was. The fingers in the blondes hair gently tightened - assuring Newt that this time, he truly wasn’t going anywhere at all. No distractions this time - no running away. 

Newt gently tipped his head to the side, deepening the kiss. He moved their knees so that he could slide closer to Thomas, wanting to close the distance. With a deep breath, Newt’s arms raised and wrapped firmly around his waist. His hands were gentle, but determined, and Thomas inhaled deeply in response. Newt was always so caring and thoughtful - and this moment was no exception. 

Even when Newt deepened the kiss even more, his tongue hesitantly swiping against Thomas's bottom lip and his fingers digging into Thomas's side, he was still as gentle and considerate as possible.

Thomas met him halfway, his mouth parting once more for him. Their tongues briefly curled against each other, and the heat of it seemed to run down Thomas's spine. His toes curled in his socks, and his back squirmed. At the motion, as if taking it as an invitation, Newt's hands began to gently travel up and down Thomas's back. It was almost as if he was trying to map out every single inch of it and keep it in his memory, and it made Thomas's back squirm even more. 

The closeness, the comfort of Newt’s touch, left Thomas’s mind spinning. As Newt brushed his hand over his shoulders, Thomas thought about how he would happily do this for the rest of his life. He thought about how he would give anything to stay in this moment with him, forever. He never wanted to go back to the hell of The Scorch. He never wanted to go back to the hell of missing Newt. 

“Please remember me,” Thomas whispered in between their kisses, his voice breaking. He kissed Newt once more before continuing, relishing in the warmth and the gentle way Newt's mouth molded against his. _“Please.”_

Newt didn’t answer him. Instead, his hands traveled back to Thomas's waist, and wound their way around him. Newt straightened his own legs for a moment, and pulled Thomas close with a strength that surprised him. With the movement, Thomas was pulled straight onto Newt’s lap, his arms falling from Newt’s hair. His legs ended up on each side of Newt’s hips, and he was now straddling him.

It wasn’t a sexual advance. It was simply to bring Thomas as close as Newt could get him. The blonde had to tilt his head up in order to kiss Thomas now, and so he did.

“I swear to you with everything I have,” Newt whispered against his lips.

The wave of deja vu from Newt's sentence was so intense that Thomas was pulled into the old memory.

 

_“Promise me that you won’t let me give up,” Thomas whispered back - so gently that he was sure that his voice had been swallowed up by the night sky around them. He was proved wrong, though, when Newt’s face broke into one of sadness. His vulnerability seemed to deepen - opening himself up to Thomas as he had never done before._

_“I promise you, Tommy. I swear to you with everything I have. I will never let you give up.”_

 

Thomas threw his arms around Newt’s neck, leaning down to kiss him once more. Newt eagerly responded, arms tightening around his waist and deepening the kiss almost immediately. The emotions that welled inside of Thomas were so intense that he felt as if he would break at any moment. He swore, though, that the way Newt's mouth molded onto his could keep him together. 

God, he hoped Newt could keep his promise.

Still on Newt's lap, Thomas adjusted himself to be more comfortable. He didn't mean to heat things up, he truly didn't, but he realized that he had done just that when Newt gasped into his mouth. Thomas had unknowingly rubbed himself on the place where it counted, and it caused Newt's arms to tighten around him pathetically.

The kiss began to heat up quite a bit then, becoming more quick and slightly sloppy. Their tongues were clashing, and their gasps were loud in the quiet room around them. Thomas was still straddling Newt's waist, and that fact drove both of them completely wild. The close proximity didn't start off sexually, but it was definitely going to end that way.

Newt quickly unraveled his arms from Thomas's waist - sliding his hands up and under his t-shirt. His hands met the bare skin of his back, and Thomas's skin seemed to burn at the touch, goosebumps erupting on his skin.

Thomas gasped into Newt's mouth, earning himself a small, deep groan from the blonde. The noise made the hairs on the back of Thomas's hair stand on end. He was astonished that he could make someone as attractive as Newt make a noise as sexy as that. And it was all for him.

Thomas would have been embarrassed that he was extremely hard and pressing against Newt's hip, if it wasn't for the fact that Newt was just as hard against the inside of his thigh.

Suddenly, the door of the shack slammed open. Thomas scrambled off of Newt, falling back onto Gally’s mattress. In the process of falling backward, he had accidentally sat right on the plate of food that Newt had brought for him earlier. Newt quickly pulled his knees up to his chest - obviously trying to hide what had been pressed against Thomas a moment before. The pink in his cheeks and ears were back, and brighter than ever before.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Minho groaned, his head snapping to the ceiling. His eyes were squinted, almost as if he wanted to close his eyes entirely. Thomas flushed red, looking anywhere but Newt or Minho. He began collecting the fallen food, desperately trying to stay busy.

“I know it might be _hard_ to get away for a moment, but one of our trucks is pulling up, boss. Someone from the Safe Haven,” Minho said, eyes still locked on the ceiling. The emphasis on 'hard' made Thomas's ears flame red. Even in this awkward moment, his best friend had the audacity to pull a boner joke on him. “Thought you might like to know.”

Minho turned without another word, and left the two boys alone once more.

Thomas froze in place, a handful of food in his hand, as he realized exactly what Minho had said. 

Thomas’s heart, the bubble of comfort and happiness that it had been encased in moments ago, seemed to pop.

It was time to go back to the Safe Haven.

 _“_ _I think they’re scared that if we are free to leave, we will, and...hurt him again.”_

Minho’s words rang in Thomas’s ears, and a harsh realization struck him.

Newt might not go back to the Safe Haven with them.

 

before

**THE SCORCH**

 

Newt had always been the best shot. It was as if he had a split second advantage over everyone - able to take out every crank that came their way before anyone else could. The first time that Thomas had witnessed that was the same night that Newt first called him “Tommy.”

Thomas always seemed to forget how powerful Newt was - how _manly_ and in charge he was. If Newt wasn’t on Thomas’s side, he would be terrified of him. And if Newt told Thomas to do _anything,_ he would. He just had that much authority about him. Thomas envied him for it, and also admired him immensely for it as well. 

When they left Janson’s facility, they had run into an abandoned building. A mall? A business? A warehouse? They weren’t sure. But it had multiple floors, elevators, and glass strewn everywhere. This building had obviously been torn apart - trash and furniture strewn across the whole building. There even seemed to be makeshift beds on the floor, as if this had been a hideout for people after The Flare had taken over the world.

They had only heard about cranks from the people in Janson’s Facility, but still had yet to see them for themselves. Thomas knew that they were in for a wild ride, but didn’t expect to see them as soon as they escaped. And especially, he never expected to see them in the numbers that they did.

They had recently split up to cover more ground, everyone trying to find more supplies that they could use. They had already found a few articles of clothing that fit them, and had carefully packed them inside of backpacks. Thomas had somehow ended up with just Newt by his side, and everyone else had separated out of sight from them. Thomas tried to ignore the uneasy feeling that the separation gave him.

“I’m glad to be out of there,” Newt admitted as he tried on an old pair of boots. He was sitting on an old cot, watching Thomas as he rummaged through supplies on the table. Thomas hated the sight of the gun laying on the bed next to the blonde. “Even though we have no idea where we are going, apparently.”

Thomas shot him a look, and Newt laughed. Thomas felt really bad about the situation already, but Newt joking about it lessened the blow a bit. Earlier, he had seemed to be really upset over the decision to leave, and Thomas felt extremely guilty over the fact. He just wanted everyone to be safe, but of course, that unfortunately led them to the middle of nowhere.

“Thomas,” Newt suddenly spoke up, the difference in his tone startling him. Thomas glanced up, but Newt now seemed extremely interested in his shoes. He seemed to forget how to tie his shoelaces, tying them and untying them repeatedly. His short messy hair was all Thomas could see, almost as if he was hiding underneath it. 

“Yeah?”

“Teresa gives me a bad feeling,” Newt muttered, sighing. He didn’t glance up at Thomas. “I really don’t trust her.”

Thomas understood exactly what he was saying. This wasn’t any new news to him, either. Newt had always shown a discomfort around Teresa, that much was obvious. Thomas, though, felt the exact same way about her. There was always an air about her that made him uneasy too. She seemed to know much more than she was letting on. She had done nothing wrong to them in the short time that they had known each other, but the feeling of untrust was still there.

“I know,” Thomas finally muttered, sighing. “I feel the same.”

“You do?” Newt asked, finally looking up at him. His eyes seemed a bit hopeful, as if that was the response that he had wanted to hear. Thomas nodded, eyes meeting the blondes. Something flashed in them that Thomas didn’t understand in the moment.

“I do.”

“What should we do?” Newt asked, his eyebrows furrowing. He shrugged his shoulders gently, as if he was hesitant to speak about the issue. “I mean...you probably don’t want to do anything, right?”

Thomas paused, his eyebrows furrowing as well. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you guys must have been really close up in WCKD, right?” Newt muttered, shrugging again. He had taken his time on finally tightening the laces, and decided to pick up the gun that was next to him. He seemed to be trying to keep himself busy. “You seem close. I mean, she bloody well remembered you. You two must have been really close.”

Why so many “closes”? They weren’t close at all. Why was Newt so fixated on that word?

Thomas, many months after this moment, would always wonder if this was a moment between the two. He always doubted it, but it was always a thought on the back of his mind. When he would stay up, the long nights after Newt’s death, the memory would come back quite often.

Thomas scoffed. Newt glanced up at him through his eyelashes, curious. Thomas finally decided on what to put into his backpack, and placed it on the table to open it. He spoke as he placed a flashlight, bandages, and a few water bottles into his pack. “I don’t know about that.”

“Why?” Newt asked, his voice low and hesitant. “What do you mean? Don’t you...aren’t you two close?”

That damn word again. Thomas opened his mouth to speak, when a growling sound met his ears. Thomas whipped around, the sound of quick footsteps approaching. There was an animalistic scream, and Thomas caught sight of a shape of a human running towards them.

A crank. It had to be. They hadn’t seen one yet, but there was no way that that thing was a true human anymore. Even the way it ran was sloppy and uncoordinated, as if it had no reason to be doing so at all. 

Before Thomas could react, before it had gotten close enough to him, there was a loud bang, and the crank fell to the floor. Thomas whipped around, shocked at the accuracy of the headshot. The bang had echoed through the abandoned building loudly - the sound seeming to rattle deep in Thomas’s bones.

Newt stood there, gun raised and his face determined. He stared at the lifeless body of the crank over Thomas’s shoulder, brown eyes narrowed. He was suddenly very close to Thomas, their bodies about two feet away.

He watched the color drain from the blondes face as he seemed to finally register what he had done. Newt’s arm slowly lowered, his eyes sweeping to meet Thomas’s. Horror replaced the determination.

“That was too loud -” Newt began, voice breaking. He was interrupted by more growling. This time, though, there were multiple sources of the sound. Thomas didn’t have to turn around again to guess that there were more behind them. Newt’s facial expression said it all.

Thomas’s blood ran cold. Pins and needles erupted all over his body from the terror.

_Fuck._

_“Move!”_ Newt demanded, grabbing hold of Thomas’s bicep and yanking him towards his body. Thomas frantically threw the backpack over his shoulder before Newt took off running - hand still wrapped around his bicep as if he was determined not to leave him behind. As soon as he was sure that Thomas was on his heels, he quickly let go and picked up the pace.

Thomas was glad that he hadn’t turned around. He was glad that Newt had took the leader standpoint in this situation, making sure that he was safe and ready to escape. Thomas couldn’t help but be scared, but with Newt by his side, he knew that he wouldn’t be left behind.

Newt frantically lead him across a long bridge like rise, glass on each side. One side was a wall, and the other a railing and a view of the lower floor. In front of them, there was a broken escalator that met the bottom level of the abandoned building. Thomas knew that this was their escape route, and pushed himself to run faster. Newt’s legs were much longer, and like always, he was a stride ahead of him. Thomas could only hear his heart pounding in his ears, and his breath ripping through his chest. His body burned, the intensity of the run and the adrenaline overtaking him.

The sound of breaking glass met Thomas’s ears, and without warning, Newt was falling to the floor. A crank had launched itself through the glass wall one one side, its motion so fast that Thomas had almost missed it entirely. He heard himself cry out Newt’s name, shock and terror gripping through him. In front of Thomas, the crank had landed on top of Newt, pinning him to the floor.

The crank was disgusting. It was a rotting pile of flesh, almost as if it was barely holding itself together. The strength of it shocked Thomas. How easy it was able to take down Newt was terrifying. Newt was tall, and had pretty lean muscles, and Thomas knew that it had to have some sort of extra strength to launch itself through glass and take the blonde down all in one leap.

For a split second, Thomas saw the rotting face of a man attempting to bite at Newt. Newt was holding it at arm's length, attempting to keep the crank as far away from him as possible. Thomas took only a moment to react.

He hadn’t really thought about what he was going to do as he launched himself at the two bodies on the floor. All he knew was that he had to help Newt, and _now._ There was no promise that they were immune, and he couldn’t lose his best friend. He would never heal from a loss like that. He would never heal from the loss of Newt.

Thomas, without thinking, raised a leg and roughly shoved the crank off. It was as if his adrenaline and his terror of losing Newt had given him his own version of superhero strength. The crank flew off of the blonde, and slammed into the glass railing. Just as it had done to the wall, it flew straight through it, and plummeted to the lower level below.

“Newt, are you good?” Thomas demanded, reaching down and grabbing hold of the blondes jacket. He yanked him upward towards his body, the superhuman strength seeming to still be running through his body. This was a new determined that he had never felt before. This was the most “life or death” thing that he had ever gone through, and that was saying a lot. Even the grievers going after him and Minho were nothing compared to seeing Newt being pinned to the floor by a crank.

 _“Yeah!”_ Newt gasped breathlessly, clutching onto Thomas for a moment. His arms held onto the material of Thomas’s shirt at his waist, almost as if he needed him as his anchor in this moment. He seemed to be shaking as he glanced up into Thomas’s face - looking relieved and thankful. Another emotion that Thomas couldn’t quite place ran through those big brown eyes. “Thanks, Tommy.”

Thomas couldn’t quite relish in hearing the new nickname for the first time - the sound of the cranks approaching closer behind them taking his attention away from Newt completely. Thomas grabbed onto one of Newt’s hands at his waist, quickly entertwining their fingers and yanking him after him as they began to run once more.

It was much harder to run this way, with their hands bound together, but the assurance that Newt was right behind him made him more comfortable and confident. It gave him the strength to keep going - to keep pushing himself forward.

They bounded down the broken escalator, and quickly rounded the corner on their left. There were multiple doors on this stretch of hallway, and Thomas quickly made his decision. At random, Thomas picked from the array of doors, and frantically opened it as soon as they approached. Thomas opened the door and dragged Newt inside after him, quickly shutting it behind them.

Thomas had to drop Newt's hand to grab hold of a desk that sat next to the door, pushing it in front of it securely. As soon as he did so, he scrambled away from the door and back to Newt’s side. They heard the hoard passing right by their door - quickly moving away from them and down the hallway. His plan had worked. They hadn’t been able to see which door they had gone through, and just followed the easiest path that they could have gone through.

Thomas was only able to register that they were in an old office before he felt a trembling hand on his arm. He turned, finally facing Newt, and was immediately engulfed in the boys arms. Thomas was too taken aback to respond for a moment.

After a few moments, Thomas slowly wrapped his arms around the shivering blonde, the intense warmth of the boy startling but welcome. His hands slipped between the blondes back and his backpack, determined to hold him close. Thoughts from the facility entered his mind, and he realized that he had missed this more than he could have thought possible.

Newt pressed his face into Thomas’s neck - his body still shaking. Thomas held him tighter, pressing his face into the blondes soft hair.

“Thank you,” Newt whispered, sounding as if he was as out of breath as Thomas was. “Thank you.”

“I got you,” Thomas muttered into the blonde’s hair, his heart swelling in his chest. “I always will.”

Newt buried his face deeper into Thomas’s neck. Thomas had no idea that Newt’s heart had swelled, too.

  
  
  
  
  


**THE BURNING OF WCKD**

**teresa**

 

_“You’ll do as we say, or we’ll kill him.”_

Teresa should have told them. She should have told them exactly why she had walked right into WCKDs arms. She should have told Thomas how she felt. She had loved him for years, even before he had been sent down into The Maze. She had been in love with him since they were children.

Thomas always had eyes for someone else, though.

She should have told him.

Teresa saw the berg leave. She saw it rise into the air - saw it begin to disappear into the night. She knew that the berg had been her way out of here, her final escape from WCKD, and she watched it fly away. She had run onto that rooftop for nothing. They had left her as if _she_ meant nothing. As if she hadn’t stolen the cure, and as if she hadn’t helped them burn WCKD to the ground.

She had multiple syringes in her backpack - the cure with Thomas’s blood in almost all of them. She knew what was happening with Newt - she had _seen him_ turning -so why would they leave with Newt when they didn’t have the cure? Why would they risk him turning into -

A groan on the floor behind Teresa stole her attention from her awful thoughts.

Teresa whipped around, unable to believe that she had managed to run right by a body on the floor without noticing it. She had been so determined to reach the berg before it flew away that she _hadn’t noticed._

She automatically thought it was a crank. She automatically thought of this as her karma for doing everything wrong. She would die by a crank on top of this roof after being abandoned by everyone who once meant the world to her.

It wasn’t a crank.

There, on the floor, lay the man that Thomas had been in love with all these years.

The man that had stolen the heart of the man that Teresa loved.

Newt had always had Thomas’s heart. Thomas had never admitted it to the blonde, but it was obvious to everyone. For years, Thomas had been quietly in love with Newt from the sidelines. Ever since they were children, he had been. They both had been.

Teresa had been hopeful when nothing had happened between the two. In the facility, in the years before they were sent into The Maze, Teresa was hopeful. The two boys remained just friends, despite their obvious feelings, because both were oblivious and unbelieving that the other could reciprocate anything. Teresa had hoped that Thomas would get over his feelings for Newt after nothing had happened for years, but she was wrong.

Boy, was she wrong. She knew it the moment that she was lifted up into The Glade. The look that they gave each other was nothing new. They were still hopelessly in love, even if they couldn’t remember a thing.

She couldn’t help but hate Newt. She couldn’t help but wish that things were different.

“Newt,” Teresa whispered, scurrying over to the blonde. As soon as she reached him, she could see the prominent dark veins on his face. He was sweating and shaking intensely, as if he had no control over his body. He would turn any moment now. His eyes were darkening, and frantically looking around wildly up at her, as if he couldn’t quite focus on her face.

“Teresa?” Newt gasped, his voice raspy and unnatural. He began speaking again, but Teresa couldn’t make out what he was saying. There was blood bubbling in his mouth, mixed with a dark liquid that Teresa didn’t want to think about. His face was splattered with blood, and the long red sleeves that he had on were soaked with it as well. She hoped it wasn’t his own blood - the loss of that much was definitely something that even the cure couldn’t help him with.  

A strange feeling rose inside of her as she noticed that the WCKD patch on his sleeve was soaked in blood.

She had no idea that it was Ava’s and Thomas’s mixed together.

Teresa, despite how much she hated Newt, knew what she had to do. Thomas would never forgive her if she didn’t. She quickly shrugged off the backpack and unzipped it, listening to the boy groan in pain under her. His hair was dark with soot, and he was slowly being covered in a layer of it as it drifted down to the floor around them. The building was still burning all around them.

Teresa quickly grabbed the vial of the cure with Thomas’s blood, and uncapped the needle. Without hesitating, she stabbed it straight into Newt’s chest, and shot the cure into his body.

Maybe a bit harder than she should have.

Newt gasped, eyes flying open. They had almost completely faded to black, the whites halfway covered, and the exposure of them startled her. It was honestly terrifying to look at, but Teresa couldn’t tear her eyes away. No matter how many times she saw it in the facility, she couldn’t help but stare. It was the worst sight.

Teresa dropped her hand from the needle, leaving it in Newt's chest. She sat back, staring at him, and waiting for any sign that the cure was working. As she waited, Teresa suddenly realized something that terrified her.

How could Thomas leave the man he loved behind?

No, he wouldn’t. He never would.

Unless he wasn’t able to make that decision.

Pushing her fear down, she quickly zipped her backpack again and fastened it over her shoulder. She pulled out the needle in Newt’s chest, and stared in wonder as the black in his eyes slowly began fading away almost instantly. 

_It had worked._

“Where are they?” Newt gasped, voice still raspy but more legible. His eyes were slowly focusing on her, much more steady now. “What happened?”

Teresa didn’t answer. She sat there next to Newt on the burning building, speechless. She tossed the vial off to the side of them, not knowing what to say to Newt. 

How could Thomas leave him? How could any of them have left him?

“Teresa, I can’t remember everything. I don’t know where I am. I’m so fucking scared.” Newt whimpered, attempting to sit up. He was shaking uncontrollably, but Teresa didn't reach out to help him. She felt as scared as Newt was, but she couldn’t help but still carry the resentment towards him.

Where could they go from here?

_Would they come back for them?_

Or would they die on this roof of the burning building, or die in the woods around them?

Newt had finally managed to sit up, head slowly swaying as if he could barely keep it up by himself. His eyes were sweeping around the roof, looking at the buildings burn around them. The whites in his eyes were slowly making an appearance again, and Teresa knew that the cure had officially worked.

It _was_ Thomas, after all. He was the cure.

He had just indirectly saved the life of the man he loved.

Jealousy filled Teresa as she watched Newt look around, a panicked expression on his face. She couldn’t help it. She couldn’t help but ignore Newt when his hands began ringing together from anxiety. She wanted to help, she did, but years of hating Newt didn’t allow her to feel all the sorrow for him that she would have originally.

“We need to get out of here,” Teresa said determinedly, almost forgetting that the building that they were sitting on could collapse any moment underneath them. She stood, grudgingly holding out a hand for Newt to take. He did so, and when their skin touched, goosebumps erupted throughout her body. Touching the person that she envied most in the world wasn’t what she had ever wanted to do. But, if she didn’t, Thomas would never forgive her. She knew that. 

Newt pulled himself clumsily to his feet, Teresa reaching out with her other hand and helping to pull him up by the arm as much as she could. Newt was very heavy - the lean muscles and long limbs contributing to it. He was a good head taller than Teresa as well, so helping him stand wasn’t an easy task at all. Her skin crawled every second from the contact - unable to help it.

“My memory -” Newt gasped, finally in a standing position. “It’s... _fading._ I can’t…”

“We need to get out of here,” Teresa said loudly, trying to break whatever trance Newt was in in the moment. She began pulling him by the arm toward the building - towards the stairs that lead to the ground floor. The stairs that Janson’s body was laying near. “We need to leave before-”

Suddenly, so quickly that Teresa had no time to react, Newt wheeled clumsily around and grabbed onto both of her upper arms. Teresa gasped, blood running cold and her eyes widening. Newt, eyes determined and now almost fully white again, stared down at her as the grip on her arms hardened. He was holding her so tightly that she swore he was bruising her. He seemed to be trying to hold himself steady, as well as attempting to get her full attention. It worked.

Newt’s face held a determination that Teresa had never seen before. As the ash fell around them, the blood on Newt’s face was illuminated by the bright moon above, and Teresa realized how terrifying Newt truly was. He was always so strong - _always._

“After everything you've done, after _everything,_ please don’t let me forget,” Newt demanded, voice clear and even despite it being barely recognizable a few minutes before. His hands impossibly tightened even more on her upper arms. “I can feel myself forgetting.”

“I won’t,” Teresa muttered distractedly, glancing around at the burning building behind Newt. “Please, Newt, let’s-”

“Don’t let me forget him,” Newt pleaded, slightly shaking Teresa. Her eyes finally snapped back to Newt’s, shocked at the sudden change in his tone. His voice was direct and determined. “Don’t let me forget how much I love him.”

Teresa couldn’t believe what she had heard. She couldn’t believe how hopeless Newt looked, how _terrified._

“I won’t,” Teresa whispered, eyes still locked on Newt’s. “I won’t, but Newt, we need to get out of here. _Now.”_

Newt seemed to switch back into the half conscious state that he had been in a few moments ago - disoriented and quiet. He let go of Teresa’s arms, and let himself be half pulled and half carried to the double glass doors. Ash and smoke filled both of their lungs as they walked - causing them both to cough and sniffle. Newt was still walking clumsily, as if he wasn’t truly in the right body just yet.

They had made pretty good pace, despite Teresa doing most of the work. They had passed Ava’s body without another thought, and were now on their way inside of the building. As soon as they crossed the double doors, the sounds of distant alarms met their ears. They slowly walked to the staircase ahead of them - slowly walked to their exit out of this burning hell.

That’s when Newt saw Janson.

Teresa hadn’t expected all of his weight to give out. As soon as they had reached the steps, Newt’s knees gave out on him. He landed on the floor, almost taking Teresa down with him. She gasped, slamming against the railing to the stairs and knocking her elbow into it painfully. She spun around, dark hair whipping around her face, to see what had caused Newt to fall so suddenly.

As soon as she saw Newt’s face, she knew that something had happened here.

Something that she probably didn’t want to hear.

Newt had fallen to his knees - staring at Janson’s body with an expression on his face that Teresa would never be able to understand. Even with all the love that she had for Thomas, she doubted that she could ever look as heartbroken as Newt did in that moment. 

Teresa glanced over at Janson, and finally caught sight of the knife buried deep in his head. There was a pool of blood around him, and two sets of bloody footsteps making their way to the double doors and to the roof. It was obvious that Newt had come through here, and most likely with Thomas. So where was-?

“Teresa,” Newt whispered, his breathing raspy and heavy. He was shaking - his voice cracking in heartbreak. “He’s dead. I think he’s dead.”

Teresa’s body froze. He obviously wasn't talking about Janson.

Teresa felt as if she had been thrown into a tub of ice water. She felt as if she was drowning in the place where she stood. She stared at Newt, who was still transfixed by Janson’s body.

“What?” Teresa demanded, hoping that she had heard him wrong. There was only one “he” that Newt could mean.

Newt, as Teresa watched, lost his mind. He began rocking back and forth, eyes not leaving Janson’s body. He was shaking intensely, and his hands were clenching and unclenching into fists at his sides. The light in his eyes seemed to have completely diminished. 

Without warning, Newt reached out and slipped the gun right out of Teresa’s waistband. He grabbed it and cocked it, eyes still on Janson’s body.

His limbs, still not working right, were sloppy and uncoordinated and Teresa was able to reach out and grab onto his arm quickly before he could place it to his temple. She grabbed the sleeve of his coat and yanked his arm toward her, halting him from getting any closer to the edge. The gun was now pointed to the ceiling, and Teresa snatched it from him with her free hand. The realization at what had just happened stunned her beyond belief. She stared down at the blonde, unknowing what to do or say.

She realized quickly that Newt was full on sobbing now, and Teresa’s heart ached for him. Her own heart ached, but she couldn’t imagine how much more intense Newt’s sorrow was. The _forgetting_ \- the uncertainty. He looked like a small, lost, helpless child as he sat on the floor. She had never seen anyone look so broken before. 

“There's nothing left for me. Let me go,” Newt sobbed, pathetically trying to push her hand off of his sleeve. He was a snotty, crying mess, but Teresa still didn’t let go. He looked up at her with big, pleading brown eyes. He was fucking broken. _“Please, Teresa. Please."_

“You don’t know if he’s dead,” Teresa said, her words full of emotion as she slipped the gun into the other side of her waistband. 

 _“Let go of me!”_ Newt suddenly yelled through his sobs, attempting to snatch his sleeve out of her grasp. He seemed to be weaker than he had been a few minutes ago, unable to release himself from her weak grip. _“Give me the fucking gun, Teresa! Let me fucking die!”_

 _“Newt!”_ Teresa snapped, desperately trying to get his attention. She was shaking at the intensity at Newt's words - how much he genuinely meant what he was saying. “We don’t know what happened! Newt, please, _we need to get out of here!_  Let's go look for them!”

He was still crying uncontrollably, seeming unable to focus on anything. He had begun to rock back and forth again, and his head had fallen onto Teresa’s hand. All she could see was his hair, and she was thankful that she didn't have to witness the pain on his face anymore. 

“Leave me here,” Newt gasped, his voice still unrecognizable through the sounds of his sobbing. All she could see was his hair, and feel his tears on her hand. _“Let go of me!”_

The yell was so loud that she felt it shake through her bones. It seemed to radiate throughout the whole room - even seeming to deafen the blaring of the alarms. Newt struggled against her once more, attempting to break free, but it seemed like his body was failing him.

“My heart is fucking shattering,” Newt sobbed, reaching up and blindly grabbing hold of Teresa’s arm. Even this grip on her arm was weak, and Teresa knew that he was completely losing control of his own body. His voice was breaking at every word, and she knew that he was losing control of that as well. “What am I supposed to do? _What am I supposed to do?”_

She didn’t even know she had begun crying for Newt until she reached up to her face to push her hair back. She was beginning to become desperate, knowing that their time was limited. Even inside the building, she felt as if she was being suffocated by smoke. 

There was no way that Thomas was dead. That wasn’t the way that things happened. They _would_ find him, but only if they got out of this damn building. They wouldn't find him if they burned to death in here.

“Newt, we can find them. We can find _him._ Let’s just get out of here, _please-”_

“I’m a coward,” Newt cried, shaking his head against Teresa’s hand. His body was shaking uncontrollably, and his tears continued to soak Teresa's hand. “I never told him I loved him. I’ll never be able to tell him. I let him down. _I let him down!”_

Newt paused for a moment. There was a shaky inhale. It sounded weak and broken, and it shattered Teresa's heart. “I’ll never see him again. I’ll never hear his voice, see his bloody fucking smile, I’ll never get to… I’ll never...”

Another inhale. He slowly shook his head against her hand once more, as if he was in disbelief and denial.

“My poor Tommy…”

He tried to stand clumsily again, reaching around her waist for the gun once more, but Teresa raised a boot and slammed it roughly into his chest. Her hand let go of his sleeve as Newt gasped at the force - knocking onto his back on the floor. From the force, his head had snapped backward and hit the marble floor underneath him.

Teresa watched his eyes as his head made contact - flashing black and then back to white once more as if The Flare had suddenly tried to make another appearance. The sight made Teresa's skin crawl in terror. 

Newt gasped, and whatever switch that he had had on the roof before seemed to switch back once more. It was as if the cure was still running its course through his body, and kept messing with his brain and his muscles. He seemed to have switched back to his half conscious, and disoriented state.

He lay there for a moment, cowering and shaking, before he glanced up at Teresa in utter terror. The loss, sadness, and confusion broke Teresa’s heart in half.

“Who are you?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking maybe only 2 more chapters to go....  
> The angst is almost over I promise! Sorry for dragging you all along on this long ride! :(
> 
> A few new people have been showing up and commenting, and I just wanted to say hello! :) I'm so thankful to have all of you here! It means the world to me that you would take the time to read my small fic, and going out of your way to comment?! Are you serious?? I'm the luckiest person on ao3. Hands down. No competition. You are all so wonderful and I'm so thankful to have you here. You have NO idea!<3
> 
> On another note to that, though ... :(
> 
> A few of my friends from this website haven't been commenting (THATS TOTALLY FINE IM NOT UPSET ABOUT IT!!<3) but it makes me worry about them and I wonder how they're doing but I'm scared to reach out because I don't want them to think I am only reaching out to have them comment on my fic and UGH! :(
> 
> If we haven't spoken in a while, I hope you're doing well. I miss you. No pressure at all to comment (please don't feel forced I swear I don't take it personally at all), but I do worry about you and hope that you're doing well <3 you come before my fic, always, so don't ever feel pressured to comment or read. :(
> 
> On another note, I hope everyone is having an amazing week and I hope you all have an amazing weekend :) I truly love talking to every single one of you, and I'm so amazed to have so many wonderful and positive people taking their time to reach out to me. You all make my life so much brighter and every chapter feel worth it (even when they fight me tooth and nail)
> 
> This is coming to an end soon, but my love for all of you could never <3  
> all my love,  
> amy xxxx


	15. like a heartbeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> I'm so sorry for the long wait. A lot has been going on, and I truly haven't even been on my phone at all. I'm so sorry again, and I will try much harder to have the next chapter up next week. 
> 
> Aga and Shelby, I thank you. So so much. You’re both the sweetest people and deserve the entire world. Thank you both for pushing me to be the best version of myself. And thank you for listening to me whine, of course. 
> 
> Unedited, as always. I’m sorry. 
> 
> -

 

**PRESENT DAY**

 

Thomas tried not to think about Newt reaching into his own pants and pulling himself into his waistband to hide the effects of what had just happened. Thomas had to do it himself, of course, but thinking about Newt’s hands on his skin for a moment seemed to short circuit his brain.

Newt and Thomas had both grown quiet as soon as Minho had left - both thinking the same thing. This was the end one road, and could be the beginning of another. If Newt decided to follow them, of course. If they all decided to follow them.

“Thomas?” Newt muttered, his hand suddenly reaching out and grabbing his. Thomas hadn’t even realized that his hands had been shaking until Newt’s gentle touch held them still. The sudden contact - the sudden warmth, snapped Thomas out of his daze. “The Safe Haven?”

Thomas finally looked back at Newt and gave him a small, forced smile.

The blonde seemed to automatically sense that something was wrong - his eyebrows furrowing in response to the sad smile. Thomas slowly stood, reluctantly breaking their contact. It was the last thing that he wanted to do, especially because of the comfort that it came with, but he knew that it was time to start something new. They wouldn’t go anywhere if they stayed still.

They didn’t talk as they exited the small house and walked to where the rest of the group was standing outside. Thomas felt Newt following after him, but didn’t turn to catch his gaze.

They were all standing near the fence - staring through it and down the street. Minho turned his head to look at the boys’ as they neared, and he gave a little smirk that Thomas ignored. As the two walked up to the gate and joined the small group, Thomas was able to see what they were all looking at.

Minho had been right. There was a Safe Haven jeep at the end of the street, where the hoard had been feasting just a few nights before. All of their jeeps looked the same, with bright red spray painted markings on the side - signifying that it was property of the Safe Haven. It was parked and vacant, the occupants obviously walking around.

Newt silently walked up to his side, not moving forward and approaching the gate like the others. Thomas could feel his gaze on him - could practically _feel_ the sadness radiating from him.

Or maybe it was just his own.

“I wonder who it is,” Gally said, closest to the fence. As Thomas studied him, he could see how excited Gally was. His face was bright with it. He was excited to go back home.

“I’m betting Brenda and Jorge,” Fry said next to him, eyes on the jeep as well. “Rafael wouldn’t waste his time on us.”

“Hey,” Minho said next to Fry, turning to scowl teasingly at him. “I was a great asset to his team. He would come looking for _me,_ at least.”

“I think what Frypan meant is that Rafael wouldn’t waste his time with _Thomas_ ,” Gally said, turning to smirk at him. It was Thomas’s turn to scowl, and it made the boys’ laugh loudly. The new additions to their group turned to look at them as they laughed, curiosity etched on their faces.

“I don’t need that son of a bitch to care about me,” Thomas said, trying to tease back and push away all of the bad thoughts that were threatening to take over. Harriet and Sonya turned to raise their eyebrows at him, obviously shocked at the words that he had chosen.

“And who is Rafael?” Aris asked, laughing. He was leaning against the fence near Minho, facing Thomas and Newt. His face was amused, and his arms were crossed against his thin chest.

“Our leader,” Thomas muttered, crossing his arms over his own chest. “He is in charge of the Safe Haven.”

“I thought you were their leader,” Harriet spoke up, eyebrows raising once more. Or maybe they had never returned to their normal positions. Teresa, standing next to Sonya, turned to glance back at Thomas as well. Thomas ignored her gaze.

“He is our leader,” Minho spoke up, not looking back at them. His eyes remained locked on the jeep, ignoring everyone’s gaze.

The way that Minho had said it - without hesitation and with such certainty - was insane. It made Thomas’s heart swell in his chest. Gally and Minho hadn’t gone through everything that Newt, Fry, Brenda, Vince, and Jorge had gone through with him. They had obviously been told all about everything that had happened, though, and they knew right away that Thomas was their true leader. They had never questioned it, and treated him as such from then on, even though they hadn’t been there to witness all of it. They treated him with the utmost respect, despite his rough time after the burning of WCKD.

“If they threaten us, we will threaten them back,” Harriet suddenly spoke up, turning to glance back at Thomas. She obviously didn’t doubt what Minho had said about him being their leader. “Got that?”

“Aren’t we done with that ‘hostage’ bullshit? None of you even have your guns on you anymore,” Gally suddenly spoke up, turning his head to raise his eyebrows at Harriet. In turn, she looked extremely offended, her face scrunching up as she turned to glare at Gally.

Gally was right. They hadn’t been threatening them at all, and even let them walk away unsupervised to use the restroom. They obviously weren’t hostages anymore, despite the fact that they were trying to be told otherwise.

Aris, arms still crossed over his chest, laughed as Harriet turned to storm back into the small house. Their small altercation had captured everyone's attention, and had pulled their eyes away from the jeep. As soon as Harriet reached the shack, however, everyone froze.

The sound of guns cocking snapped everyone’s attention away from Harriet’s retreating body.

Thomas, in response to the noise, had stepped in front of Newt. It was a knee jerk reaction, and Thomas couldn’t even say that he was surprised at this point. He hadn’t told his body to move - it was almost as if that was his first thought to everything. _Newt._ Always protect Newt. Always make sure he is safe.

In response, one of Newt’s hands reached up to grab hold of the fabric on the back of his t-shirt.

They had been so distracted from their banter that they hadn’t seen people approach the fence.

Two people were standing a bit farther off, huddling near the front of the main house. They were standing near the corner of the house, making an escape route possible if necessary. They both had their guns up and pointed directly at them, and the hair on Thomas’s arms rose in fear.

They were sitting ducks. They could easily be -

Suddenly, the guns dropped, and Thomas heard a familiar woman’s laugh. Both bodies straightened up, and moved more into their eyesight.

There, standing in front of them, was Brenda. Her hair was shorter than when Thomas had last seen her, and her clothes looked a hell of a lot nicer than everyone’s here. She obviously had a nice shower pretty recently.

She stared around at the group through the fence, grinning, as if she was extremely happy to see them. Thomas wasn’t surprised when he caught sight of Jorge behind her, smiling at them as well.

“Where have you dumb shanks been?” Brenda asked, a playful smirk on her face. “Got lost?”

“Brenda,” Fry breathed, staring at her in shock. He turned his head to look at Jorge then, as if he couldn’t comprehend the sight of both. “Jorge.”

Thomas felt Newt moving out from behind him then, his hand dropping from his shirt. His curiosity seemed to get the best of him, the friendly strangers intriguing him.

“We’ve been looking for you guys for days. Thought you’d be back by now. Where have -”

That’s when they caught sight of Newt.

Without warning, without speaking, Brenda strode forward. She ripped open the gate, pushed everyone out of the way, and launched herself at Newt. Jorge was hot on her heels, a huge disbelieving smile on his face.

It was almost comical how baffled their “captors” looked. All Sonya, Aris and Harriet did was stare, disbelief etched on their faces. Aris looked more amused than anything, though. Like always.  

Newt awkwardly stood still as Brenda held him, his eyes flickering over to Thomas as if asking a million questions in just the one look.

The look of trust for Thomas on Newts face, the way he looked at him for reassurance in this unknown situation, made Thomas’s heart flutter. He smiled at the blonde.

“I can’t believe you’re actually alive,” Brenda said, laughing sadly. She continued to hold Newt for a bit, the blonde awkwardly patting her on the back as she did so. Jorge walked up and clapped an open hand on Newt’s shoulder, his eyes a bit red.

“I sent these boys out with low hopes, my friend, and I’m glad I was wrong.”

Unknown to the rest of the group, Harriet was watching them carefully, her chest heavy and her eyes squinted. She was terrified of her group breaking up, and a bit jealous of all the people that felt love for Newt. She was grateful for the love of her group, but this was unlike anything she had ever seen. It was as if they were all a family.

“Hold your tears for now,” Gally said, striding forward and patting Jorge on his shoulder. The man glanced up, surprised at Gally’s interruption of their reunion. “He doesn’t remember us.”

“What?” Brenda asked, pulling away from Newt. She looked up at the blonde in shock, and he smiled sadly down at her. Jorge glanced over at Thomas, his expression heartbroken. Thomas had a feeling that it was directed more towards him than anything.

“You’re overwhelming him,” Minho agreed, walking carefully toward the small group that was forming. He also had a sad smile on his face. He placed a gentle hand on Brenda’s shoulder, as if trying to comfort her.

“Kind of bittersweet, huh?” Fry spoke up behind the group, magically standing next to Thomas. He had been so distracted that he hadn’t seen him walk up. Fry reached a hand out to pat Thomas on the back.

Newt’s eyes, squinted just the slightest as he looked at the newcomers, was his tell tale sign that he _was_ nervous. Thomas felt dumb for not realizing it before. He should have been more aware.

“You don’t remember any of us? Not even Thomas?”

Thomas’s face flushed at Brenda’s words. Everyone glanced at Thomas - even Newt, who sent him an embarrassed smile. The question - _did everyone know? -_ seemed to be written across his face in black Sharpie.

Well, Brenda _hadn’t_ know until Newt had died. His mourning to Newt was much different than everyone else’s. It must have been pretty obvious.

“Not even Thomas,” Newt spoke up, eyes peeling away from Thomas. He glanced back down at Brenda, and then up at Jorge. “It’s nice to see you two again, though. Or I assume it would be.”

Jorge affectionately slapped his shoulder again, taking the joke lightly. “It’s good to see you again, too.”

“So are we all going back? Who are all of you?” Brenda asked, looking around. She began speaking again, until her voice suddenly cut off with a strangled gasp.

She had turned her head and finally caught sight of Teresa, who was cowering against the fence. She looked as if she wanted to disappear right through it, and run away as fast as she could. She gave a pained smile at Brenda and Jorge as they turned to fully look at her.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Jorge muttered lowly.

 

**The Night After Meeting Gally**

before

 

Gally lowered his hands, preparing to hoist Newt over the low wall in front of them. Thomas, for a split moment, watched the blonde walk over to him in the darkness, fully prepared to accept his invitation. The hairs on the back of Thomas’s neck stood up, but it had nothing to do with the light breeze that was blowing through the bright city.

“I got you,” Thomas muttered, striding forward toward the two boys’. Gally slowly lowered his arms, looking at Thomas with his eyebrows furrowed. Newt turned his head, looking at Thomas with his eyebrows raised. Even though he was confused, he let Thomas approach him, and he held out his own hands to hoist Newt up.

Newt reached out to grab hold of Thomas’s shoulder, his grip firm. Thomas ignored the heat that rushed through his body at the slight contact. He had on a jacket, for God’s sake. Even so, the brunette could swear that Newt’s simple touch seeped right through his jacket and his light blue shirt and straight into his bones.

Newt met his eyes for a brief moment, his dark eyes holding an emotion that Thomas couldn’t quite place. The slight breeze ruffled his blonde locks before he lifted a leg to step into Thomas’s hand.

For someone who was so strong with his wide set shoulders, Newt was pretty light. He pushed himself off from Thomas’s hands, and scaled the wall easily. Thomas quickly followed after, not checking to see if Gally had offered his hands to him.

After he straightened himself up next to Newt, Thomas was once again amazed by the bright city lights. They shone brightly and brilliantly through the wind and the night sky. The bright lights could almost pass as daylight. Thomas was so transfixed by the lights that he hadn’t noticed Newt looking at him. He was just as transfixed by the sight of Thomas.

The flare had heightened Newt’s emotions, Thomas knew that, but he could never had guessed that the aching longing to wrap Thomas into his arms and be with him forever was as strong as it was in this moment.

Soon enough, Gally was back next to their side. Thomas hadn’t heard him scale the wall, the bigger man obviously used to doing this. Gally, without a word, walked past the two boys’ and around the buildings edge.

Thomas hadn’t noticed that they had been elevated by the platform below, making the height of the building much taller than he had anticipated. As they rounded the corner, Thomas realized that the path to whatever Gally was leading them to could only be reached from a dangerous height.

There was a very small sliver of an edge protruding from the building - so small and narrow that the boys’ would have to walk sideways to get to their destination.

Thomas’s heart dropped to his stomach. A chill ran through his spine that seemed to paralyze him - his knees growing weak. He felt his hands begin to tremble, and all he wanted to do was run in the opposite direction. Whatever Gally was trying to show them didn’t seem at all important in this moment.

He was _terrified_ of heights.

Gally began walking onto the ledge, not looking back to see if they were following him. The breeze was ruffling his hair and his clothes, and it made the whole situation appear ten times more frightening. What if they fell? What if the fucking wind made him plummet to his death?

Thomas was _not_ going to let himself go out like that. No way. He would rather get the flare.

Newt, seeming to always know in a split second when Thomas was in distress, suddenly closed the distance between them. Thomas could feel his body heat behind him, could feel his hot breath on the back of his neck.

“I got you,” He murmured, a hand reaching out to place on Thomas’s lower back. The deep voice in his ear caused another shudder to ripple through his spine. As the breeze ruffled his hair and clothes, Newt spoke again. “Everything will be alright. I won’t let you fall.”

Thomas believed him.

Thomas nodded, unable to speak. He felt as if his throat was constricting, and no air would ever be allowed to pass through it again. His poor throat.

The fact that Newt was so observant to know that he was terrified of heights baffled him. He had never expressed this aloud, and always had attempted to appear unaffected whenever the terrifying situation was unavoidable. He was sure that he had hidden his fear very well, but apparently not well enough to fool Newt. He could never fool Newt.

Thomas began slowly walking forward, his knees and hands shaking dramatically. The strong hand of the blonde on his back was reassuring, and enabled him to take the first few steps onto the ledge.

Newt was always the most grounding and comforting person that Thomas had ever met. He truly was the glue to their group. Without him, everything would have fallen apart months ago. He was selfless and caring, and Thomas couldn’t ever thank him enough for it. Even so, he was not expecting the extra mile that the blonde took then.

Along with the hand on his back, Newt had turned his body to face toward the building’s side instead of the plummeting height below. He reached out and grabbed hold of Thomas’s arm, causing a tight and reassuring hold on him. The terror and fear seemed to lessen drastically, Thomas turning back to risk a glance at the blonde.

Newt caught his eyes for a split second before Thomas forced himself to face forward once more. Those gorgeous brown eyes still held the same emotion that he couldn’t place from earlier.

The small trip across the ledge ended before Thomas knew it. Gally had a further distance on them, since he had started much earlier, and he was waiting for them on the other side. He was staring at them with a curious expression that Thomas ignored.

As soon as they were safely on the other side, Gally turned to push open a door that Thomas hadn’t seen before. The strong hands on Thomas disappeared as quickly as they had come, and the loss of contact left a strong sense of longing deep in his stomach.

Thomas was still unable to speak, but he briefly looked back at Newt to try and thank him through a gentle smile. Newt softly returned it, his eyes crinkling the slightest bit in the endearing way they always did, and the longing in Thomas’s stomach twisted violently.

Gally led them up a small flight of stairs before they were once again greeted by a small balcony. This one was much more comforting to Thomas, as there was a railing wrapping around it. Gally leaned down to open a box that the boys’ hadn’t noticed, and pulled out a large telescope.

“There it is,” Gally said, setting up the telescope against the rusted railing in front of them. He latched it on securely before looking through the small lense. He pointed it at a huge building that towered over them. “If WCKD’s got Minho, that’s where they’re keeping him.”

Gally fiddled with the telescope, looking inside of it and adjusting it multiple times. Newt had walked up behind Thomas, almost as if he was still worried about his fear. Thomas was grateful for the worry. “Lawrence has been trying to find a way in for years. The place is crawling with soldiers. They’ve got surveillance everywhere. Scanners on every floor.”

Newt let out a scoff behind him. “Sounds like a bloody fortress.”

Thomas silently agreed, becoming agitated. Did Gally just make him walk across that terrifying ledge for nothing? His tone changed drastically, earning a sigh from Gally. “Yeah, I thought you said you had a way in.”

“I might.”

“You might? What the hell do you mean might?” Thomas demanded, his temper increasing. Gally sighed once more, and finally stopped fidgeting with the telescope. Seeming to be pleased with his work, he slowly took a step back and raised his eyebrows at Thomas. His light hoodie billowed in the breeze.

“Take a look.”

Thomas took a step forward, taking Gally’s place. He ducked his head, peering curiously through the small lense.

His heart dropped, the breath knocking from his lungs. There, in plain sight, was the woman that seemed to haunt his thoughts and nightmares.

Teresa.

She was slightly pacing, appearing to write something on a clipboard. She was obviously not a prisoner - a small badge visibly attached to her dark colored long sleeve. She looked healthy and busy, almost blending in with one of the WCKD workers behind her.

The rage that he had felt for Gally when he saw him yesterday didn’t even halfway compare to the rage that surged through him at the sight of her. He had been slightly worried for her, always wondering if she was being treated fairly. There was no doubt about that now, though.

He became hyper aware of Newt standing behind him, obviously curious himself. Thomas knew how much Newt disliked Teresa, and he wished that he wouldn’t have to show his friend what he was looking at.

“I said I had a way in,” Gally spoke up behind them, snapping Thomas out of his thoughts. “I didn’t say that you were going to like it.”

“Well, what is it?” Newt spoke up behind him, sounding worried and impatient at the same time. “Let me see, Thomas.”

Reluctantly, and as slowly as he could, Thomas backed away from the telescope. His chest felt tight as he watched Newt quickly bend down in front of the telescope, impatiently searching for that Thomas had seen.

Newt didn’t seem to have a reaction, which was the scariest of them all in Thomas’s opinion. The blonde didn’t seem to move, eyes trained on what was on the other side of the lense.

“I know you and Teresa had a thing,” Gally spoke up, his voice tight. “But if we want to get Minho, we need her.”

Thomas didn’t even know what to say. Why did everyone think he and Teresa had a thing? Before he could open his mouth to protest though, he was interrupted.  

After a few moments of silence on his part, Newt finally spoke.

“Of fucking course.”

 

-

 

Newt had helped him cross the ledge on their journey, but his grip was a bit too tight this time. As they ran through the night back to Gally’s hideout, Newt refused to meet Thomas’s eyes. He could practically feel the anger emitting from his body - could practically see the smoke trailing out of his ears and into the night sky. Newt’s hatred for Teresa obviously hadn’t diminished in the slightest from their time apart.

They all formed a group discussion when they arrived back to the hideout. Thomas gathered his group, and Lawrence gathered his own. Thomas, speaking throughout, formed a brilliant plan. He spoke like a true leader, and took initiative of the situation...even though he was completely distracted by Newt’s constant glare throughout the meeting, of course.

After their discussion, though, they decided that it was best to wait one more night. They all needed to rest well for the next day, and go over their plan once more in the morning.

They were getting close. 

That being said, Thomas was terrified of going to sleep. For their beds, they had been offered the vans that they had been kidnapped in. He and Newt were alone in their own van, and Thomas was scared of the conversation that he knew they would have. He was also terrified of Newt staying completely silent, and stealing away one of the diminishing number of nights that they had left with each other.

They were brought blankets and pillows, and a small plate of food. Newt ate in complete silence, his knees pulled up to his chest and his back resting against one of the front seats. They were in the back of the van again, and there was a lot of room to spare, but Thomas was upset at the huge distance that Newt was keeping from him.

Thomas also couldn’t take his eyes off of the dark veins spread out on Newt’s forearm. He had taken off his light jacket, and had pushed his sleeves up to eat. It was almost as if he was unaware that he was showing it, his mind obviously preoccupied with millions of thoughts. His face was terrifyingly blank, though, as if he didn’t want any emotions to expose his true feelings.

Although his appetite was nonexistent, Thomas had finished his beans and rice relatively quick. He wanted to lay down, but also be available and ready to talk with Newt about what was bothering him. If Newt didn’t speak, he would. He wasn’t going to waste what could possibly be the last few nights that he had with him.  

Thomas was laying on his stomach, his eyes trained on Newt and a pillow propped under his head. He had thrown a blanket over himself, and had pulled on warm socks that had been provided for them. Newt, on the other hand, still had his boots on.

“She will come after you, you know,” Newt spoke suddenly, startling Thomas. His voice and facial expression was still eerily calm and vacant. “Like a little bloody leech. Your plan will work, and you know it.”

“It’s not what I want to do,” Thomas said, determined to make his point. Newt continued eating, refusing to make eye contact. “It’s what we have to do. Do you have a better plan? Because I’ll be happy to use that one instead.”

“You know that’s the best one,” Newt snapped, his calm seeming to evaporate. He scowled down at his food. “She will follow you like a damn lost dog.”

Thomas watched Newt scrape the last of the food onto his fork, and ate it quickly and angrily. As soon as he was done, though, Thomas decided to be brave.

“Come lay down,” Thomas sighed, eyes still trained on Newt. Newt’s body froze at the demand, almost as if he was shocked by his words. His eyes continued to stare down at his food. “Let me explain.”

“I don’t know,” Newt said sarcastically. His small nose was scrunched up like a child's. “I kind of don’t want to bloody lay with someone that has a thing for the twat that betrayed us.”

“You become very British when you’re angry,” Thomas pointed out, unable to help himself from teasing the blonde. Newt looked up at him, eyes wide and shocked, before hurling the plastic plate and fork at Thomas.

As soon as he threw it, Thomas could see the surprise and regret flash across Newt’s face. Thomas didn’t move as the plate and fork hit his arm before falling to the floor with a clatter.

“I’m so sorry,” Newt whispered, looking horrified. His eyes were trained on the plate and fork, still not daring to look up at Thomas. His short blonde hair was threatening to fall into his eyes, almost as if it was helping him disappear beneath it. “All of my emotions...all of _everything_ has been so intense. I feel so fucking out of control all of the time. I’m...I’m not myself anymore.”

“Come lay down,” Thomas repeated, eyes now on Newt’s shaking hands. They had wrapped around his knees, which were still pulled up to his chest, and he looked... _small_. His knuckles were white with how hard he was trying to keep his hands still.

Newt looked as if he wanted to disappear inside of himself, and Thomas couldn’t have that.

“I don’t want you to like Teresa,” Newt whispered, his voice so low that it was barely audible. Thomas was sure that he wasn’t intended to hear it, but he did. His heart squeezed tightly in his chest.

“Newt,” Thomas said, attempting to speak as comfortingly and gently as possible. “Come here.”

Newt didn’t hesitate this time. Through the light that spilled from the windshield, Thomas watched the blonde pull himself toward him.

Newt still didn’t look up at Thomas as he lay on his back next to him. He left about a foot between them, pulling the other pillow up under his head as he nestled into the warm blankets. His eyes were red as they stared up at the vans ceiling.

Thomas was still laying on his stomach, and it was easy to stare at Newt from this position. His head had already been turned toward the blonde, so it wasn’t as obvious. He couldn’t help but feel bad - couldn’t help but notice the heartbreaking expression on Newt’s face.

He didn’t want to think about Newt losing himself to The Flare. He didn’t want to think about _if_ they got a cure for him. He wanted to think about _when_ they did. There was no way in hell that he would let this boy out of his life.

“I don’t,” Thomas finally spoke up, his chest feeling heavy as it pressed into the blankets. His heart was still twisting and turning in his chest, as if he had no control of it whatsoever.

When Newt didn’t respond, his eyes still unmoving from the ceiling, Thomas sighed.

“Newt. I don’t like Teresa. I never have, and I never will.”

Newt finally turned his head to look at Thomas, the sound of the blankets and pillows rustling underneath his head. His eyes were dark and held too many emotions for Thomas to count. They were still rimmed with red, and it made him sad to see. He wasn’t sure if they were red with possible tears or exhaustion, but he didn’t wish either on his best friend.

“You promise?” Newt whispered, dark eyes still locked on his.

Thomas nodded, smiling sadly at him. “I promise you.”

Newt’s eyes were flickering back and forth across Thomas’s, as if he was still searching for something that he couldn’t quite find.

Thomas didn’t know that he was looking for consent. Newt was looking for some sort of sign - _any sign_ \- that it would be okay to close the distance between them. He was looking for any sign to finally tell Thomas how he felt.

Newt knew he was running out of time. He knew there wasn’t any cure. If he wanted to admit things to Thomas, now was the time. His heightened emotions from The Flare made him feel as if he needed to make his move - and make it _now_.

The bite on Newt’s forearm seemed to pulse in response to his thoughts.

“This is a long way from the Glade,” Newt whispered, eyes still peering at him through the darkness. His eyes squinted slightly as he spoke - his eyebrows furrowing.

“Do you wish we could go back?” Thomas muttered, sadness settling inside of him at the state that Newt was in. He wanted to take away all of his pain. He would do anything to take it all away.

“Always,” Newt admitted, his voice breaking over the single word. “I just want to be safe again.”

“We will one day,” Thomas whispered, his hand hesitantly reaching out to Newt. He grabbed hold of the blonde’s arm, and gently pulled him closer to his side. The feeling of their bare skin against one another pathetically made Thomas’s stomach twist and his heartbeat accelerate.

Thomas began gently stroking the area of Newt’s forearm where The Flare had settled inside of him. It seemed to emit a bit more heat than the rest of his body, and Thomas’s fingertips seemed to scorch across it.

Newt’s eyes continued to look deeply into his, as if he was still searching for something. They appeared to be much darker than a few moments ago, his pupils blown wide. His breathing was becoming uneven and quick.

“I promise you, Newt. I won’t let you down,” Thomas whispered, his fingers still trailing up and down his forearm and the bite. “I will get you there one day. I swear to you.”

A moment after he spoke, the lights in the facility shut off, leaving them in complete darkness. Whatever light that had been spilling in from the windshield was diminished, and Thomas could no longer see Newt’s face, despite them only being about a foot apart.

Thomas had no idea that Newt had found it - he had found the consent.

There was a few moments of silence - a few moments of listening to the deep breathing across from him. 

Then, Newt moved.

He slid the arm that Thomas was holding out of his grasp. Disappointment filled Thomas, but it only lasted a moment. Suddenly, a soft and gentle hand cupped his face. Newt’s fingers slid through the hair above his ear, and a gentle thumb pressed lightly on the side of his mouth.

Thomas’s throat seemed to close just as tightly as it had done earlier with the height of the building. He was unable to take even a single breath. It felt as if the pressure in his head would explode any second from the intensity of his thoughts.

Newt’s body heat was much too close then, the rustling of the blankets reaching Thomas’s ears.

Newt was hesitant at first, their lips barely brushing. It was almost as if Thomas’s mind was playing a trick on him - as if the small pressure was nothing more than from a non existent breeze in the van.

But then, he felt another pressure. He felt hot breath mixing with his own, and the parting of Newt’s lips against his. 

Confusion set off like fireworks in Thomas’s head.

_What was Newt doing?_

Newt’s fingers gripped Thomas’s hair, almost as if he was holding him in place. Almost as if he actually felt some sort of passion and relief in this. Newt's warm breath was mixing with his own, and it sent Thomas’s mind into a frenzy. His whole body felt paralyzed, even though his mind was racing.

The warmth and comfort that spread throughout his body was overwhelming. It felt as if time had stopped around them, and his body vibrated with adrenaline. The feeling - _this feeling_ \- was intense. It was a million times more intense than the fear he had experienced earlier.

Almost as if his body was out of his control, almost as if he had no consent over his actions whatsoever, Thomas felt himself responding to the warm breath on his lips. 

As soon as Thomas parted his lips against Newt's for an actual kiss, though, the contact disappeared. Newt had moved back - moved away from him. His hand dropped from Thomas’s face and down to his arm, wrapping it around his forearm as Thomas had done to him earlier.

Thomas’s head began spinning.

_Thomas had almost been kissed by his best friend._

And he was about to kiss him back.

The silence in the van was undisturbed, stretching on until the early hours of the morning.

Thomas blamed it on Newt’s heightened emotions. Newt had said that he felt out of control, and he knew that his thoughts must have been all over the place.

In the darkness, unable to even see each other, it was almost as if they could forget it had ever happened.

Almost.  

 

 

 

**The Scorch**

before

1:34 AM

 

It was an especially cold night in The Scorch, the chilly breeze stinging the exposed skin on Thomas’s face as it swept over him. He was huddled on his side for warmth, facing Newt.

Newt was also snuggled up in his sleeping bag, the cold intense for him as well, but he wasn’t attempting to sleep like Thomas was. He had a flashlight tucked between his neck and his arm, illuminating the book that he had propped up in front of him on the sandy ground.

Vince would have killed him for wasting the batteries on the flashlight, but Thomas would never tell. Thomas actually found it a bit flattering that Newt trusted him enough to _not_ tell Vince. The sleeping bag was pulled up to Newt’s head, so that only Thomas could see what he was up to.

Thomas could see the red cover with a silhouette of a person, and the title: _Simon vs The Homo Sapiens Agenda._ Newt hadbeen reading it for the past few nights, and Thomas was very intrigued. It had been one of the books that they had stolen from the abandoned library, and he seemed to be captivated by it.

Suddenly feeling eyes on him, his eyes glanced up to look at Newt. Newt was staring at him through the darkness, the stars behind him twinkling in the night sky. His blonde hair was ruffling around in the breeze, and he raised his eyebrows at Thomas when they locked eyes.

“Going to tell on me?” Newt teased, whispering just loudly enough for Thomas’s ears. Thomas rolled his eyes at him, shivering under his blanket from a sudden gust of cold wind.

“You haven’t told me about the book yet,” Thomas informed him, tightening his arms around himself. “I assume it’s good?”

Newt seemed surprised by his question. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, eyes wary.

“You want to know about it?”

“Sure,” Thomas said eagerly, sending the blonde a smile. “Show me?”

Newt raised his head over the small blanket fortress that he had made, hair tumbling in the breeze, and peeked over the covers. He seemed to be satisfied that no one was watching, and began scooting his sleeping bag more toward Thomas. He didn’t have to move far, as they both slept very closely already, and was able to situate himself next to Thomas pretty quickly. Their shoulders were now pressed firmly together, and Thomas was thankful for the warmth. 

“You probably won’t like it,” Newt muttered, pulling his blanket back over his head once more. Thomas ducked his head as well, so Newt was able to cover both of them easily. They were both suddenly under the blanket together, the harsh cold outside biting less.

“Why?” Thomas muttered, trying not to be overwhelmed by the sudden close proximity of his best friend. It was extremely personal and intimate under the blanket, as if the whole world wasn’t spinning around outside of this bubble that they were in. He glanced over at Newt, who was struggling to balance the flashlight against his neck like he had been before. Before he could reach out and help him, Newt swatted his hand away playfully.

Newt was flicking through the pages, looking for one that he had dog eared. As soon as he had found it, though, he paused. He kept the book slightly closed, and Thomas was unable to make out the words written across it.

“Let me see,” Thomas whined, reaching out for the book. Newt swatted his hand away once more, but pushed the book in front of Thomas’s face. Thomas’s eyes had to adjust to the close proximity before he was finally able to read the small writing that Newt was pointing to.

_“The way I feel about him is like a heartbeat - soft and persistent, underlying everything.”_

“Oh, so a romance book?” Thomas asked, admiring the well written words. Newt just shrugged, pulling the book back to his own face before Thomas could read any more. “Is that why you think I wouldn’t like it? You think I don’t have a soul and hate love?”

Newt rolled his eyes, the flashlight illuminating the soft features of his face. His long eyelashes were clearly visible in the low flashlight light, and they seemed to touch his cheekbones as he continued to look down at the book. “No, not that.”

“Well, why then?” Thomas asked, growing more curious by the second. Newt hesitated again. “Come on, Newt. Show me.”

Newt leafed through the pages again before reaching another page that he had marked for later. He took a deep breath before shoving the book once more into Thomas’s face. Thomas had to adjust his eyes once more before he was able to read the sentence that Newt’s finger was pointing to.  

_“I mean, I feel secure in my masculinity, too. Being secure in you masculinity isn't the same as being straight.”_

“Oh,” Thomas said as Newt yanked the book away again. Newt didn’t look at him, but seemed determined to leaf through the same pages over and over again to keep himself busy. “Why wouldn’t I like that?”

Newt paused, his fingers stopping their anxious movements. He took a deep breath before he began talking, his eyes still on the book in front of him. Their shoulder, still touching, seemed to press even more together with Newt’s fidgeting. 

“You don’t think it’s wrong for boys like boys?”

Thomas didn’t even have to think about it. If Newt liked the book, then Thomas liked it too. Who cared what it was about?

“So what?” Thomas asked, eyes on the book as well. He reached out and plucked it from Newt’s long fingers then, slightly surprised that his friend had let him do so. He leafed through the pages himself, and took his time with looking at the pages Newt had marked. “What does it matter if he likes boys? Besides, the way he feels about him is like a heartbeat, right? No one can control a heartbeat. Who cares if his heart likes things a bit different? He can’t help it.”

The flashlight propped on Newt’s shoulder suddenly fell, ripping the blanket down from around their heads. The cold wind bit at Thomas’s cheeks as soon as he was exposed to the freezing air, and he gasped from the sudden pain. Newt didn’t make a move to cover them again, though. Instead, Thomas could feel eyes on him. Newt was looking at him.

And as Thomas turned his head, his eyes caught Newt’s.

There, in Newt’s eyes, was an emotion that Thomas couldn’t place. With the unknown emotion swimming in those brown eyes, Thomas could swear that he saw the stars in the sky reflected in them as well. His eyes seemed to carry the moon and the stars, as if they were their own galaxies entirely.

_“The way I feel about him is like a heartbeat - soft and persistent, underlying everything.”_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember, unedited!  
> I'm sorry for all the mistakes.
> 
> I have no idea why, but about a week ago, when you searched "Newt / Thomas Archive of our own" my fic came up. On google. Like, the first suggestion under archive. I thought it was my computer remembering my fic, so I asked my boyfriend and it came up on his too. I asked my sister and two friends, and it showed up on theirs too. It's gone now, but for who knows how long my fic was the first google result if that was typed? I was so confused, and thankful and idk how to even properly comprehend that?? I have pictures of it and me freaking out but I'm not sure how to upload on here. Oh well. It’s gone now, but that was the craziest thing. Phew. 
> 
> Life kind of sucks sometimes, and I get overwhelmed easily, but I sincerely apologize for the long wait. I feel as if I have probably lost half of you, and I apologize immensely again.
> 
> I hope everyone has had an amazing two weeks, and you will continue to have a great week. I know you all will. <3 And if you don't, I'm always here to talk. I'm always here, and please know you're not alone!
> 
> I thank you all, from the bottom of my heart, for all of your constant love and support. I am so thankful for all of you, for being my friends, and being the most wonderful people I’ve ever met. I know I always say this, but I am for sure the most lucky person on ao3. No competition. You all mean the absolute world to me. Your comments and love and support leave me speechless. You all push me to be my best, and be the person I want to be. My heart is so fucking full. This website truly has changed my life. All of you have. 
> 
> I am awful with being on my phone, and responding to people, but if anyone would ever like to come talk, you can add my Twitter or instagram @amylovesanswer  
> I’m so bad at responding but if anyone ever needs to talk, feel free to message me. <3 
> 
> I'm sorry again for the long wait. 
> 
> I will try my best to upload next Thursday. 
> 
> all my love,  
> amy. x


	16. written in the margins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
>  
> 
> This is the last angsty chapter...  
> :)
> 
>  
> 
> -

**Present Day**

Brenda and Jorge were frozen in place. Their faces seemed to be flicking through emotion after emotion, as if they couldn’t decide on how they felt. There was anger, sadness, relief, confusion. Seeing their reactions sparked remembrance deep inside of Thomas. He had felt the exact same way. It was as if he was witnessing his own reaction to first seeing Teresa.

Pity filled his stomach at the sight of Teresa’s face. She looked guilty and heartbroken. She didn’t know Jorge and Brenda as much as the rest of them did, but she obviously still cared about them. The look on their faces weren’t tilting anywhere near forgiveness, either.  

“She saved Newt’s life,” Thomas spoke up, successfully snatching Brenda and Jorge’s attention away from the scared brunette. They both turned towards him - twin expressions of confusion.

“Really?” Brenda breathed, the disbelief on her face obvious. She turned her head to look back at Newt. After a quick glance at Thomas, Newt tilted his head to look back down at Brenda. He nodded. “But what about -”

“She knows how to make the cure,” Gally interrupted, stretching out his shoulders as he did so. He seemed indifferent on the situation despite just standing up for Teresa. “She’s coming back with us.”

Jorge and Brenda exchanged a worried glance. Teresa, against the fence, continued to look as if she wanted to disappear into it. She wouldn’t look at them anymore - eyes cast downward.

“Okay,” Jorge breathed, nodding. “Okay.”

Teresa’s head snapped up at that. She obviously hadn’t been expecting that response. She glanced around at the group in disbelief.

“I don’t even get a choice in this?” Teresa spoke up, sounding torn. Everyone turned to look at her at the exact same time, shocked by her outburst. She had been so quiet and distant for the past few days, and it was a shock to hear her voice again. “There’s nothing left for me here, but I still want a choice.”

Rage bubbled inside of Thomas.

A _choice?_

“You don’t have a choice,” Thomas spoke up, the authority in his voice firm. Everyone turned to look at him - shocked at his hostile outburst as well. He had just defended Teresa, and now he was snapping at her. Teresa finally turned to look at him, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “You are going to help us with the cure. You didn’t have a choice in the first place. You’re going with us.”

“We don’t know if we’re going yet,” Harriet muttered, eyes narrowing at Thomas. Newt’s head turned quickly to look back at Harriet. Thomas’s heart sank. “This is a huge decision, with a lot of people that we don’t know.”

“I’m not saying you all need to go,” Thomas corrected himself, shaking his head at Harriet. She nodded slowly, looking more at ease. “Just her. You get your choice. She doesn’t.”

He really hoped they would go. He really hoped _Newt_ would go. Harriet, Sonya, Aris and Teresa had been his family for the past few months, though, and he must be so conflicted. How could he leave the only family he knew for one that he didn't remember much about?

“Who else is coming back, then?” Brenda asked, glancing around uneasily at them all. She was suddenly conflicted herself. She kept glancing at Newt, as if begging him with her eyes. 

“I think we would need time to think,” Sonya admitted, taking a step toward her. She seemed sure of her decision. “That’s a huge step, going back to a huge town of people we don’t know? That we can’t trust yet?”

“But you can trust us,” Frypan interjected, looking crestfallen. He had obviously warmed up to this group just as they had to them. He would miss them. Fry always had the biggest heart. 

“We know that,” Aris sighed, shrugging off of the fence. He ran a hand through his sandy hair. “We do. But it’s still a big change. We’ve been on our own for a long time.”

“So you will think about it? And then come with us?” Minho asked, his eyebrows furrowing. He glanced at Thomas for a moment before turning to Newt. Newt looked pained. He kept glancing back and forth between Thomas and Harriet, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. Despite the situation, despite the people all around them, Thomas wanted to go up and hold him close. He never wanted to see Newt in pain.

"We will talk about it," Harriet promised, her face much more soft. She stared at Newt as she spoke. 

Even after all of his mental back and forth struggle, Thomas knew what he had to do. He knew he had to go back to the Safe Haven. He had to provide his blood for the cure to help everyone. He needed to help build and grow the community of the Safe Haven, and help what was left of this awful world. He needed to be a leader to everyone again. He couldn’t just sit back and expect things in this hell of a world to get much better if he didn’t provide the Safe Haven with information they needed. He needed to go back with Teresa and force her to give her all the information that she could. He needed to give her his blood for the cure.

He knew that he could contribute to this world - could possible make it much better than the state that it currently was in. He had to go back and give this his all.

He could only hope that Newt would go with him.

Thomas turned on his heel, walking toward the shed. He ducked through the doorway, and walked straight toward Harriet’s backpack. He squatted near the bag, yanking open the front pocket by the cold zipper.

The handcuffs and keys caught his eyes immediately. The memory painfully swam through his brain, his fingers freezing on the zipper. The voices that Thomas could hear floating in through the open door seemed to suddenly be coming from inside of a fish bowl.

 

_“They look awful,” Newt whispered, fingers releasing their hold on Thomas’s skin. The fire from his touch didn’t release its hold on his heart. The rushing noise in his ears didn’t stop._

_“So sweet of you to say, thanks,” Thomas joked._

 

It wasn’t that long ago, but in some ways, it felt like decades ago. So many things have happened since they have found Newt. And now, possibly everything could be taken away. Newt didn’t seem to know what he was going to do.

That terrified the hell out of Thomas. 

Coming back to his senses, Thomas’s fingers quickly began moving once more, shuffling through the rest of the contents in the bag. Once he had found purchase of what he was looking for, his fingers closed around the keys. Thomas straightened up and quickly walked back out of the shack, keys in hand. He ignored the glances of everyone outside, walking around the side of the shack to where they had parked their own jeep.

Thomas popped open the back seat and reached for his backpack when he heard footsteps approaching. He ignored them, yanking open his own bag zipper to the middle pocket. His fingers closed around what he was looking for when a voice spoke up behind him.

“Don’t leave me again.”

Thomas froze in place. The way Newt’s voice sounded - so heartbroken and scared - made Thomas want to crumble in place. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking a deep breath. He slowly straightened up, pulling the object out of his backpack. When he turned, he finally faced Newt. The blonde looked as heartbroken as his voice sounded, if not more.

“I’m not leaving,” Thomas whispered, his heart clenching painfully in his chest at the sight of Newt’s face. “You can always come with us.”

“I can’t do this again,” Newt whispered, taking a step forward. His eyes scanned over Thomas’s face, as if he was looking for something to hold himself together. He didn’t seem to find it. His lips began quivering. Thomas inhaled deeply, trying to control his emotions. “I can’t lose you again.”

Thomas shook his head, smiling sadly at the blonde. "You aren't losing me, Newt. My blood is in the cure, and Teresa is the only one who knows how to make it. I _need_ to go back and give what I can. If you want to go to the Safe Haven, we will be waiting for you.  _I'll_ be waiting for you. I always will be."

Thomas held out the book to Newt. Newt's eyes snapped from his and down to the hardcover, confusion taking over his face. As Newt reached out to grab the book, Jorge turned the corner. Newt didn't look up, but Thomas turned to face the man. Jorge looked a bit sullen, as if knowing exactly what he was walking into. Thomas could hear Newt flipping through the pages of The Missing Piece behind him.

"Sorry for interrupting. I was thinking that we can leave them a jeep," Jorge muttered, eyes sweeping over Newt as he gripped the book in his hands. His knuckles were white, and he stared down at one of the pages as if he was looking right through it. "I can draw out a map for them, if they want to go to meet us there. I spoke to Harriet and she said she doesn't want to drive out there just yet. Doesn't trust it."

"Thank you," Thomas muttered, reaching out and patting an open palm to Jorge's shoulder. Jorge gave him a sad smile. 

Without looking back at Newt, Thomas turned to walk back toward the group. He could feel the tears welling in his eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was leave Newt one more time, and that was exactly what he was about to do. If he stayed back and spoke with Newt any more, saw him reading what Thomas had written in the margins for him, he would break down and agree to stay here with him. That would be the most selfish decision that he could make, though.

But when else was he allowed to be selfish?

No, that's not a good way to think right now. He knew that with Teresa's help, they could finally make a cure for all of the innocent people and all of the young children in the Safe Haven. With Teresa, they can begin to make this world a better place. Staying here to be with Newt could actually do more hurt than good.

He had to just trust that they would find a way back to one another. Like they always did.

When he finally reached the group, Thomas began speaking to Brenda about what Jorge had proposed. As they began walking out to the gate to the other jeep, Harriet in tow, Thomas heard quick footsteps behind them.

“Please don’t,” Newt begged behind Thomas, voice heartbroken. The group of people around them turned at Newt’s voice. Newt didn’t seem to care that everyone could hear, or that everyone was watching. Thomas turned to face him as Newt spoke up again. His eyes were rimmed red and he looked desperate. His face was twisted in pain and confusion, his eyes boring holes into his. The next word was a whisper. A beg. His voice broke on the single word. _“Please.”_

Thomas’s heart felt as if it shattered inside of him. He could see the book clutched in Newt's hands - a page open to Thomas's own writing. 

More than anything, he wanted to take a step backward and forget all of this. Forget the Safe Haven. Forget the people that needed his blood for the cure. Forget everything in this hell of a world besides Newt.

But he couldn’t.

Thomas knew that if this was meant to be this time around, it would. If you love someone, you have to let them go. If they were meant to be, Newt would find his way back to him one day. He _would._ And, hopefully, one day soon.

“You'll know where to find me,” Thomas whispered. "I'll see you soon. I promise."

And with his heart falling into a black abyss, Thomas turned to walk away from the man he loved.

 

 

 

 

**before the glade**

**age 11**

 

On Thomas’s 11th birthday, as he blew the 11 candles out on his cake, he knew.

Newt and Siggy had asked one of the coordinators permission to make a cake, and surprisingly, they had said yes. Thomas was a sucker for chocolate and vanilla, so Newt had the idea to make a swirling masterpiece. It was beautiful, and he couldn’t wait for Thomas to cut into it to see it. They had worked on it all day, and finally, Thomas was about to blow his candles out. The insanely tall, slightly tilted cake, was frosted and ready to be eaten.

Everyone was there. Teresa, Siggy, Minho, Winston, Alby, Gally, Chuck, Newt, and a few other boys from the facility. They all crowded around the small metal table, small joke party hats on their heads. They were all staring at Thomas, smiles on their faces and laughter filling the tiny bunk bed filled room. Newt had placed a tiara on Thomas’s head before he allowed to him to blow out his candles, and the fluffy pink tiara declared his age proudly.

This was two years before they found out what was truly going on in WCKD. This was two years before they would all be separated, and three of them would die.

As Thomas inhaled, his breath ready to wash over the small candles, his eyes caught sight of Newt.

Newt was standing across the small metal table, the biggest smile on his face, as he watched his best friend make a wish. Newt’s body was lanky and knobby, and his hair was a short mess on top of his head. His eyes sparkled across the table from him, and his smile twisted Thomas's heart in his chest.

Newt had woken him at exactly twelve, the moment he had turned eleven. Newt had set an alarm on his small crappy watch, which Thomas was shocked still worked, and had climbed into Thomas’s bunk to wake him the moment it went off. He had jumped on top of Thomas, startling the boy awake. Thomas had sat up quickly, and accidentally slammed his head into Newt’s. He still had a small bump on his forehead from the surprise awakening. 

Thomas had no idea that Newt didn’t even need to set the alarm on his crappy watch. He had been tossing and turning all night, too excited and too busy mentally planning the cake to sleep. He had kept Chuck awake all night with his tossing, and the younger had dark bags under his eyes. 

Thomas had paused in blowing out the candles, and Minho roared in frustration.

“Thomas, get to blowing my friend. I want some of that cake.”

Alby and Gally snickered at what Minho had said, but Minho ignored them. Chuck laughed along, although it was clear that he had no idea what the joke meant.

"Yeah, Thomas! Get to blowing!" Chuck exclaimed, stabbing his fork in the air. Alby and Gally began laughing harder, and Winston raised a hand to pat the top of Chuck's head.

"Don't poke my eye out, Chuckie boy."

Thomas’s attention ripped from Newt, eyes leaving his, before he turned to Minho. Thomas faked a pout.

“Fine, I won’t blow my candles out at all. Newt and Siggy did such an ama-”

Without warning, his head was pushed forward, and slammed into the cake.

Deafening cheers roared throughout the room, laughter bouncing off of the walls. Chuck stabbed the air again, almost stabbing Winston in the eye. Thomas, mouth full of cake, began laughing as well. He slowly brought up his head, and turned to face the culprit.

Of course, those chocolate eyes twinkled mischievously down at him. He had crept around the table and up behind him during the playful arguing, and Thomas hadn't even noticed. Newt was suppressing a laugh, his cheeks bulging as he bit his lips.

“That’s delicious,” Thomas teased, reaching up and scooping a bit of cake off of his cheek. Newt, eyes not leaving his, reached behind Thomas and plucked the fallen tiara off of the cake. “Wouldn’t you like some?”

Newt didn’t hesitate. He spun on his heel and ran, cackling all the way down the hall. Thomas scooped up another handful off of the cake on the table before charging after him. He could hear the cheers of the boys' as he left the room, and roar of pain from Winston as Chuck finally stabbed him in the eye with that damn fork.

Newt was taller at this time, and he knew that the blonde would fake slowing down in order for Thomas to catch him.

He always did.

As soon as Thomas caught up to Newt, only because he allowed him to of course, Newt let him drag him to the floor. He fell at an insanely slow speed, and very dramatically. Thomas, in turn, slowly and teasingly swiped the whole handful of cake that he had across the blonde’s face. Newt let him with little protest. 

“Okay, I surrender! _I surrender!”_

 _“Apologize!_ It’s my right as queen that I get an apology!”

“I’m sorry, your highness.”

Newt slipped the cake covered tiara on Thomas’s head, covering his poor hair in cake, as he kept him pinned to the cold metal ground. As the boys' were on the floor, a few WCKD workers walked past them without glancing down. That wasn't surprising. What surprised Thomas, though, is when Newt reached up with both hands, cupped Thomas's cake covered cheeks, and pulled his face down to his.

With cake covered lips, Newt quickly placed a kiss on the side of Thomas’s mouth.

On Thomas’s 11th birthday, he knew.

He knew that he would always be in love with Newt.

 

 

**the words written in the margins of the missing piece**

in the scorch

 

 

Newt -

I guess you were right. It was a library. I don’t think I’ve ever been in one, so I’m glad you won this time. Even though you always do, anyway.

I can’t tell you exactly what drew me to this book. It’s a children’s book, anyway. Aren’t pictures supposed to be for little kids? Not like we got much of a childhood, anyway.

This book stood out to me for some reason. I guess now I get it, though. I must have read this before. I had to have. I just grabbed it without thinking.

Now, I kind of get it. This book reminds me so much of you.

Newt, you aren’t a missing piece. I know you’re sad sometimes, and I wish I could take that all away. I would rather I be sad forever than you be sad one more day. You don’t deserve it. I wish I could take it away. You've done so much for all of us, and I wish I could repay you somehow. I know that even if I tried to every day for the rest of our lives, I couldn't do it properly. 

I don’t think I’ll ever show you this. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to have the guts to tell you how much you matter. But you do.

You matter more than you’ll ever know.

I wish you didn’t get sad.

I would do anything.

 

 

  
**the words written in the margins of the missing piece**

after newt’s death

 

I would do anything.

I want you here. I want you next to me. I want to catch you reading in the middle of the night. I want you to get cold and complain all night until you dragged your sleeping bag over to me. I want you to be here. I need you to be here. I want you to even throw me in that damn lake again. I would give fucking anything. I would do anything. 

I don’t think you understand.

No one could ever understand.

I should have shown you. I should have shown you what I wrote. I should have fucking told you.

I LOVE YOU

You mean everything to me. to all of us. you always fucking will. 

I'll always love you.

I hope you knew that. I don't care if you didn't want me to. I did. I always will.

You didn’t have a missing piece, no matter how much you thought you did. You thought you were so broken, and so unnecessary, and my heart fucking breaks that I NEVER TOLD YOU.

You’re not broken. You’re not lost. You’re you. And you’re perfect.

WERE PERFECT.

WERE.

YOU WERE.

 

 

**before the glade.**

**age 14**

 

It was Thomas’s turn to clean the dorm. He held a dust pan in one hand, and a broom in the other. Like always, he only did his best work near his and Newt’s bunk, so he started there again today.

Thomas, clumsy as always, attempted to sweep under Newt’s bunk. As he did so, he accidentally hit his head on the side of the bed. From the force of the hit, the bed shook slightly, and an object slipped off of Newt’s bunk on the top and came crashing to the floor.

Thomas reached down to pick up the book that had fallen, not very curious at first. Newt was always reading. They both slept on the top bunks, Newt directly on his left side, and he could see him across the small distance, reading into the dead of night. It was just what Newt did. He wasted the batteries of the flashlight constantly. Thomas always threatened to tell Ms. Paige. Newt would always smack him for suggesting such a thing. 

He never did. Of course he wouldn’t.

This book, though, caught Thomas’s interest when he finally picked it up. It was much bigger than the chapter books that Newt poured himself into. This one looked like a children's book, with big pages and a hardcover spine.

The Missing Piece.

Thomas rested the broom against the side of his bunk bed to free both his hands. He opened the book, the pages glossy under his fingertips, and began leafing through it. It _was_ a children’s book, with drawings and very little words on the pages. It seemed that Newt, though, had written in it just as much as the author had. There were pencil marks and scribbled out words on almost every page. There were even doodles of the drawings themselves, as if he was trying to recreate the originals.

Thomas stopped on one page that caught his attention. This one was a bit crumpled, as if he had written on it time and time again just to erase most of the words.

 

_One time it seemed to have found the perfect piece_

_But it didn’t hold it tightly enough_

_And lost it_

 

The original words were not what caught Thomas’s attention. Newt had crossed out “didn’t hold it tightly enough” and replaced it with “was a coward and kept quiet.”

Heart sinking, and confusion taking over, Thomas turned a few pages.  

 

_Another time it held too tightly_

_And it broke_

 

Newt had scribbled on this page quite a lot as well, but had attempted to erase all that he had written. If Thomas turned the book slightly, though, he could see the old etchings that Newt had written under the bad lighting of their room. They were carved permanently in the glossy pages, despite the attempt to erase them. Most of it went along the lines of: and that’s why I don’t deserve anybody. I’m a burden. I don’t deserve anything. I’m a waste of space. They should send me away. They’d be happier without me. He would be happier without me.

Thomas’s stomach clenched. He had to take a seat on Siggy’s bed below his own, his knees trembling too much to support him any longer. His fingers trembled as they continued to flip the soft glossy pages.

 

_Well, maybe you don’t want to be mine_

_Maybe I do_

_Maybe we won’t fit_

_Well…_

 

The piece ended up fitting perfectly on this page, and the circle was suddenly complete. Newt seemed to be unhappy with this, though, because he had written a lot on these two pages as well. He had written after the end of the last word, continuing it with: “Well...it’s wrong. It’s wrong. It’s wrong.”

Newt had written “it’s wrong” so many times on this page that Thomas wouldn’t be able to count them all. Only two words were different on this page. On the bottom, in the middle of two “it’s wrong”, Newt had written: he wouldn’t.

Thomas, without thinking, began tracing each word with his finger. "It's wrong." "He wouldn't."

Thomas knew that Newt was sad. He always did his best to make him feel better, though, always going out of his way for him and doing whatever he can to make him happy. He had no idea that his best friend felt this badly about himself, though. He thought he was _worthless._ He hated himself, and it was clear to see.

Knowing that the boy he loved hated himself, thought that he was better off _dead,_ hurt Thomas in ways he wasn't sure he _could_ hurt. There had been a lot of hurt recently in WCKD with Alby disappearing, but this seemed to hurt even more than that.

WCKD had said he had gone home. But this  _was_ their home. This was  _Newt's_ home, too.

But he still felt as if he didn't belong. That he didn't  _deserve_ this home. 

Thomas's eyes stung. 

He sat there in silence throughout his lunch time, finger slowly continuing to trace. He sat there until he heard his name being called down the hallway. When he heard his name, Thomas quickly threw the book back up onto Newt’s bunk. It was a close call, and Newt walked in a split second after the book had disappeared out of sight.

“Whatcha doing in here?” Newt asked with a smile, messy blonde hair falling into his eyes. Thomas turned to look at the lanky blonde in the doorway, who was much taller than him at this age. Almost as if seeing him for the first time, Thomas studied him.

His legs were long with knobby knees, and baggy jeans. They could never seem to find Newt’s correct size. Thomas’s left shoe was on Newt’s foot at the moment, and Thomas didn’t realize how odd the bright red and black combination looked. Thomas, in turn, was wearing Newt’s left shoe, and had the same color mismatch on his own feet. Minho had forced them to do it on a dare one time, but it stuck with them for a year after.

Those brown eyes, like always, twinkled across the room at Thomas.

God, he was so in love with him. 

“Just…” Thomas looked down at the broom that was still propped against the bunk bed. He was at a loss for words. “Cleaning.”

“Well come on, Tommy, lunch is getting cold.” Newt walked over to Thomas and grabbed the broom. “You look like you did absolutely bloody nothing, anway. The mess on this floor is appalling. I’m telling Ms. Paige.”

Newt’s eyes were twinkling down at him mischievously, but Thomas took a few moments to smile at him.

Thomas swore, from then on, that he would try his absolute best for Newt to be his happiest at all times. He would not let Newt be sad anymore. He would not let Newt have any reason to write in that book anymore.

Newt laughed in surprise when Thomas threw his arms around his middle, but didn’t hesitate to throw his arms around him as well. Newt began playfully dragging him to the door, arms still wrapped around him, and the broom still clutched in one hand.

“Come on, lazy ass, let’s get you lunch.”

Thomas didn’t hear Newt’s heart beating wildly in his chest from their contact. Newt used the excuse of roughhousing to run a hand through Thomas’s hair. As he messed up his hair, Thomas gripped onto the blonde tighter.

Thomas's heart was racing in his chest, too.

 

 

**before**

teresa’s betrayal & the capturing of minho

 

Thomas’s mind was racing. He felt light headed from anger and confusion. The sound of Vince’s screams behind him seemed to riquetche off of the inside of his head like firecrackers. He watched Janson slowly place the gun back in his holster, as if he hadn’t just killed an innocent woman.  

He could feel the bomb in his inner jacket pocket - could feel the remote control right next to it. The objects seemed to emit heat, as if they were alive. The sudden urge to grab them sprang into his mind - something stupid and rash.

“Come on Janson,” Ava spoke, turning her back on Thomas. Thomas’s eyes flickered to Teresa, who was still staring at him with tears in her eyes. “Load them up. Let’s go.”

Thomas felt someone grab the back of his jacket, attempting to yank him toward the berg in front of them. Thomas let him for a brief moment, unsure what to do. He felt many eyes on him in this moment, gauging his reaction, but only two stood out to him.

Teresa was still looking back at him, looking heartbroken.

Thomas could see Newt staring at him in his peripheral vision, waiting for any kind of sign as to what to do. Thomas turned to look at him just as a man grabbed Newt from behind, securely holding onto him. Newt’s eyes flashed with panic as they met Thomas’s.

Anger bubbled inside of him.

Thomas stumbled as the man pushed him one more time, before he lodged an elbow back and up into the man’s masked face. He heard the man cry out in his ear before retreating quickly. Thomas reached into his jacket and yanked out the bomb and the remote.

 _“Get back!”_ Thomas yelled, spinning in a circle so that everyone could see what he was holding. The circle of people around Thomas quickly retreated, scurrying away from him. Horror was evident on everyone’s faces - even Ava and Janson’s. They had spun to face him quickly at his cry, obviously knowing that trouble was about to ensue.

“Hold your fire!” Janson yelled, scurrying forward. He held out his arms, as if desperately trying to grab everyone’s attention at once. _“Hold your fire!”_

Thomas pointed the small remote at Janson, eyes blazing with fury. His hands shook with it. “Stand back. Let them go.”

“Thomas, put that down,” Janson demanded, palms still splayed in Thomas’s direction. Everyone was watching the chaos ensue, eyes on the two men, but Thomas was only watching Janson.

“Let them all go!” Thomas demanded, taking a threatening step toward the man. Janson’s eyes widened in fear for a split second before a voice of authority rose into the night.

“You know I can’t do that,” Ava snapped, taking a step toward Thomas. She didn’t appear to be afraid at all. She looked almost angry, her face set into a scowl. Her anger surprised Thomas. 

“Thomas, please stop,” Teresa begged next to Ava, taking a step toward him. She looked desperately between Ava and Janson, as if looking for back up. “I made a deal with them. They promised we would be safe. _All of us._ Please, Thomas, listen to-”

“Yeah, and I’m supposed to trust you now?” Thomas spat, eyes moving from Janson and onto Teresa instead. Seeing her standing in front of him, he could swear that he was seeing red. He wanted to throw the bomb right at her for betraying them - for putting them in this awful fucking situation.

“It’s true. It was her only condition,” Ava snapped back at him, daring to take one step closer. The fury on her face drew Thomas’s attention away from Teresa. Seeing Ava looking so angry at him, when _he_ was the one who had the upper hand in this moment, made his blood boil. Feeling Teresa’s and Janson’s eyes on him made his blood boil even more.

 _“Shut up!”_ Thomas yelled, eyes sweeping back and forth across the three in front of him. He didn't care about ay conditions, or anything Teresa had to say. 

“Everything can go back to the way it was,” Ava muttered, her anger appearing to subside. Thomas had no idea that fear was igniting in her. Thomas looked as if he was about to lose his mind, and he was scaring her. Everyone was becoming more terrified by each passing moment at the sight of Thomas seeming to lose his mind.

“Thomas,” Ava said, voice lowering even more. Attempting to appear in control of the situation, she took another step towards him. Her eyes were blazing as they locked onto his. “Do you really want all of them to die?”

“Listen to her Thomas,” Janson interrupted. Thomas’s eyes stayed fixed on Ava, though, despite the words being spoken to him. “Do you really want them all to die?”

There was a pause. Ava didn’t break eye contact. Thomas could see his own hands shaking in his peripheral vision. His palms felt so sweaty that he was sure that the remote and bomb would slip right out of them.

“Even the one you care most about?”

Thomas’s eyes snapped to Janson then, surprised. Janson’s face had the ghost of a smirk on it. His eyes flickered to someone behind Thomas before meeting his once again.

_The one?_

“There are cameras in my facility, Thomas. Didn’t you know?”

 

_As if the dark clouds were parting in his mind, Newt’s face came into view as clear as day. The sudden shift in his ability to see almost scared him, his eyes zeroing in on what was touching his cheek. The soft, gentle touch was Newt’s fingers brushing against his lower cheek. The simple action had taken all of Thomas’s bad thoughts from his head and threw them out of the window entirely. They cleared the dark clouds, they cleared the haze._

 

“Shut up!” Thomas snapped, even though his voice was much more uneven this time. His hands began to shake violently, and the smirk on Janson’s face deepened.

 

_Newt’s soft, warm fingers had moved to Thomas’s face once more. He lightly stroked the side of his face, the feeling of safety that that came from it settled deep into Thomas’s bones._

 

“Think about what you’re doing,” Janson said, his arrogance getting the best of him. He took a step forward, eyes still locked on Thomas. “Think about how you’d hurt _him.”_

 

_“I could feel it,” Newt muttered, shifting under the blanket that was still draped over the both of them. Before Thomas could comprehend what was happening, a soft touch bumped into his cheek. Thomas sucked in a deep breath, not expecting the touch. It was Newt's fingertips. A burning sensation, one that left his whole being an absolute mess, began to spread like wildfire from the small contact. The blonde slowly traced his fingertips downward, falling down to gently trace the hollow between the side of Thomas's mouth and his cheek. The fire seemed to spread wildly, igniting deep into his soul._

_“See?” Newt whispered, his voice sounding slightly uneasy. "You're smiling."_

 

 _“Shut up!”_ Thomas yelled, his voice so loud that it felt as if it ripped through his lungs. His knees began shaking, and his hands were slowing lowering. Janson’s smirk was sickening.

He was winning, and he knew it.

“Come on, Thomas. You can’t win this time. Not if you want to protect him.”

 

_Thomas felt Newt's chest heave as his fingertips gently bumped into Newt's cheek. The fire in the pit of his stomach burst into flames once more as he gently traced his fingers upward, and felt the same dip between the side of Newt's mouth and his cheek._

_Newt was smiling, too._

 

Thomas’s knees buckled. As soon as he was about to lose his balance, though, a weight behind him quickly appeared. Arms reached out, and held him steady. It wasn’t one set of hands, but multiple. They held him up - they kept his ground.

“We’re with you, Thomas.”

Thomas turned his head, looking at Newt. His best friend stared down at him with a fire he hadn’t seen from him before. He looked determined, and trusting. He nodded when Thomas met his eyes, and Thomas felt one of the hands on his arm squeeze reassuringly.

Janson’s smirk vanished. Ava took two steps backward, knowing that she had just lost. She shook her head in disbelief. “No.”

“Do it Thomas,” Minho muttered next to him, his voice holding the same determination as Newt’s. 

“We’re ready,” Fry spoke behind him, voice sure. “Do it, boss.”

As Janson’s face clouded with fear, Ava finally decided to drop her composure. Thomas once more raised the remote, his friends behind him continuing to hold him steady.

"You aren't taking us back there."

“Thomas!” Ava yelled. Her voice was drowned out, though, by a huge horn.

Chaos ensued.

A huge truck, almost impossibly big, began tearing up the area around them. Soldiers, helicopters, and cars were rolled over and destroyed.

In the chaos, with everyone running in all different directions, Thomas had lost all of his friends. His safety had disappeared. He began desperately looking around, the bomb and remote forgotten in his hands. Where did everyone go?

Terror gripped onto him as he helplessly looked around. He had to find them. He had to -

Without warning, as soon as Thomas turned, Janson was in front of him. A fist connected with the side of Thomas’s face, the force throwing him to the floor. The remote and bomb flew out of his hands. Pain exploded inside of him as he looked up at Janson, who wasn’t quite down with him yet. The man quickly slammed a boot down onto Thomas’s chest, attempting to keep him still. Thomas was unable to catch his breath, the force of his foot causing him to go into shock.

Janson glared down at him, his lips snarled in anger. Smoke and debris littered the air behind Janson's head, the situation looking ten times more frightening with it. Thomas’s head throbbed in pain as he helplessly watched him raise a gun and cock it above him. The gun lowered and pointed directly at Thomas’s head. Janson’s mouth twisted in rage once more.

“What a waste,” Janson spat, shaking his head down at Thomas. “Where's your little boyfriend to save you this time?”

A sound of a gun went off, loud and close. Thomas gasped as the pressure of Janson’s foot disappeared off of his chest. Janson staggered backward, his hand clutching desperately at his left ear. Thomas could see blood dripping down the left side of his face and onto his leather jacket. Another shot sounded, and Janson stumbled once more, this time more forcefully. The gun dropped from his hand and clattered to the floor. 

A hit on his left shoulder, right above his heart. Blood quickly began seeping through his shirt that shown through his jacket, staining the material a dark red. Janson didn’t even try to fight back, or grab his gun. He didn’t even look at Thomas again. He turned without another word, and began moving as fast as he could to the berg where Ava waited.

“Thomas,” Newt gasped above him. Strong arms wrapped around his biceps, pulling him quickly to his feet. Thomas spun to face Newt, shock leaving him speechless. Newt’s eyes were wide and terrified, as if a gun had been pointed at _his_ head, and not Thomas’s. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry I missed, seeing you like that made my hands shake so-”

In the middle of everything, in the middle of the chaos, Thomas reached out and grabbed hold of Newt’s face. Newt’s eyes widened, his chest heaving. Even as the war raged around them, the moment between the seemed silent and private.

“Thank you.” Thomas gasped, eyes still looking deeply into Newt’s. His hands tightened on his cheeks. _“Thank you.”_

“Always, Tommy.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unedited as always. is it a chapter by amy if it's edited anyway??
> 
> 2 more chapters left!
> 
> Next chapter is when things go down lmao :-)
> 
> I apologize for my lag on responding to comments. I NEVER want to rush a response because I know you guys would never do that to me, so I wait until I can actually sit down and respond. Hearing from you and getting your feedback is what keeps me motivated and excited to write. Getting to read comments that you all have left me is the highlight of my week. Every time! every comment! it's crazy how happy you all make me. 
> 
> Hearing from all of you means the world to me. More than anything. Talking to you all and hearing what you liked or didn't like means the world to me. I lose inspiration so quickly on my own, but all of your comments keep me going. In writing, but also in life. You're all the sweetest and I'm so lucky to have such amazing friends. I know I always say it, but I'll brag again. I have the most amazing and best readers and friends on ao3. <3 no competition!!!
> 
> So...I go to school, work, and I babysit a newborn after work haha. So i have about 12 or 13 hour days. I am currently trying to pay off my cat's surgery bills, which are insane (4,000 he had bladder stones my poor baby) and it's impossible and so stressful! He needed emergency surgery a few months back and this debt is impossible.  
> So, this is why I am struggling. With life and updating lmao.
> 
> I hope you're all having an amazing week! Please let me know if you need someone to talk to. I'll always be here <3
> 
> All my love!!! all of it!  
> amy xxx


	17. you owe me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> I'm so sorry for the late update!  
> A bit of nsfw, but not much. Just a warning <3
> 
>  
> 
> UPDATE: I know no one will read this but I’m so sorry for the long lag. My sister is graduating college and we have been moving all of her stuff out. I’ve also been to the beach quite a lot (i can’t swim I’m that little girl raven from the vine) and I’ve been so exhausted. Hopefully it will be up soon! I’m so sorry again! (I know I suck)  
>  
> 
> -

**Present Day**

 

Thomas knew, even though he was struggling, that he had made the right decision. He had to let Newt decide what he really wanted. He needed to let Newt take his time and really think things through. Because at the end of the day, all Thomas wanted was for him to be happy. He never wanted to force any decision on him.

Newt, Harriet, Sonya, and Aris showed up two weeks later.

In the two weeks before they arrived, however, Thomas was a mess. It was a living hell knowing that Newt was out there, and not here with him. Life without Newt was a living hell. But he knew that already, didn’t he?

The welcome back to the Safe Haven was more of a warm welcome than Thomas had anticipated. As soon as he spoke to Rafael about what Teresa could bring to the table, there was an excitement and hope in the air that the Safe Haven desperately needed. Even though they were guarded from the cranks, and the threat of WCKD no longer existed, this was the last step on the path to true safety and comfortability.

People began speaking to Thomas, asking about the downfall of WCKD and details about himself. He was suddenly a celebrity amongst everyone - suddenly accepted. They could sense a change in him that made him more approachable - the fog and distance had cleared from him. He was _alive_ again.

No matter how painful it was to be away from Newt, he knew they needed this. And he was finally _alive again_. It was more than he had ever expected. More than he could have ever hoped for.

Of course, besides the crushing longing of having Newt by his side.

Teresa and a few of the Safe Haven’s soldiers ended up traveling back to the old WCKD compound a day after their return. Teresa knew that the building had burned, but assured them that the vials necessary for the cure would be unharmed. They were located in a damage resistant safe that she happened to know the code for. If she was able to find it in all of the rubble, they were all set.

Teresa was being so helpful and cooperative, and it left Thomas speechless. He was thankful for it, of course, but she seemed to have turned on a switch inside of herself. There was a newfound hope and determination about her, and Thomas admired her for it.

Their trip took two weeks as well, and Teresa returned with multiple safes full of the cure for everyone at the Safe Haven.

What Thomas didn’t know is that Teresa had more than just the cure in some of the vials.

The safes that _were_ filled to the brim with the cure, though, were ready for Thomas’s blood. If she extracted a bit of blood every day, everyone in the Safe Haven could be injected in a few weeks. They would have that final layer of permanent protection that everyone needed. That everyone deserved.

To say that Thomas was a celebrity was an understatement, it seemed. People went out of their way to be kind to Thomas, and even tried to cook him dinner every night. He was invited to so many homes for dinner time, that he could have eaten for free for the rest of his life. Of course he politely refused each invitation, but he was grateful. And everyone was grateful for him.

The hopeful feeling that hung over the Safe Haven made him feel hopeful, too. The cure being accessible and permanent could be the start of a new beginning. This world could actually stand a chance.

Teresa had also found what remained of Janson and Ava’s bodies among the rubble. It had seemed impossible, knowing they were probably extremely decomposed at this point, and Thomas was not expecting it. He certainly was not expecting the souvenirs that she had brought back with her. Janson and Ava’s key cards. They had their ID photos on them, as well as their names. She didn’t even speak to him about it - just handed it to him silently before drawing blood one day.

Thomas was grateful for it. As much as his stomach sank at the sight of the two faces that haunted his nightmares, sank at the sight of blood stained on the ID’s, he felt empowerment. He felt as if the ID’s were a reassurance that the war and testing on humans was officially over. All thanks to a knife in Janson’s forehead, a bullet in Ava’s, and a few bombs at the bottom of the WCKD buildings.

The fear of humans was over. Well, at least the biggest and most powerful group that the world had. WCKD had boasted quite often about how they had wiped out the rest of the small resistance groups. This was proven because of how quickly Brenda and Jorge’s group was brought down by WCKD, and they had been the second biggest group to exist.

Teresa returned from the WCKD compound three days before Newt did. In those three days, it felt as if it was a constant extraction of blood on Thomas’s part. He spent a lot of time in bed recovering, and barely went outside. He was sure that they were slight overdoing it, but there were hundreds of people in the Safe Haven, and Rafael wanted them all protected and immune as soon as possible. So, in conclusion, Thomas stayed in bed because of Rafael’s determination to run Thomas dry.

So on that third day, two weeks after leaving Newt, they reunited.

Thomas was sitting up in his bed, head and back pressed against the wall, having just been emptied of what felt like all of his blood. He felt dizzy, and had his head tilted back as he stared at the ceiling. The sunlight was going down at this point, and the beautiful color of the remaining sunlight streamed through the open window and onto his sweatpants. A slight breeze was washing through the window, and it felt amazing on his clammy skin.

He hadn’t heard the door creak open. The only thing that alerted him that there was a visitor was the sweet voice that floated through the room from the doorway.

“You look like shit.”

Thomas’s head snapped up at the sound of the voice he loved so much, his heart racing. At the sudden movement, though, the nauseated feeling worsened drastically. He groaned, his head falling back against the wall once more.

“I feel worse than I look,” Thomas admitted, although his heart felt the lightest and happiest that it had in a while. He squinted his eyes at Newt, who still stood in the doorway. A row of beds separated them, and he wished he would close the distance already. “I’m happy to see you.”

Newt had actually followed him. He truly _did_ want this. The whole, “if you love them, you should let them go” was worth it. The pain and sadness of the past two weeks of not knowing if Newt would come back, despite Minho’s constant reassurance that he would, was worth it. The fact that Newt went out of his way to actually come back and follow through with his feelings meant the world to Thomas. He chose this himself. He chose _Thomas._

“I’m happy to see you, too,” Newt admitted. He had on his old black boots, dark jeans, and a tan coat wrapped tightly around himself. His hair was shorter, and those twinkling eyes were on full display. The sight of them made Thomas’s heart ache in longing. Newt was smiling at him, head slightly tilted, and eyes crinkled. He looked so happy to see him, almost as happy as Thomas was. Just the smile alone seemed to reassure him that Newt _hadn’t_ changed his mind about him.

Newt began to walk hesitantly forward, eyes trailing around the room. He took in all of the beds, and all of the big windows that took up most of the walls. As he got closer, Thomas could feel his heartbeat growing faster. Damn, he had _missed_ him. Even the nauseated feeling was diminishing at the sight of Newt.

Instead of sitting on the bed with Thomas, he stole Teresa’s chair. She had propped a chair across from where Thomas was currently sitting to draw blood. His arm was still propped up on the bundle of pillows that she had given him, which had blocked Newt’s seat next to him. Thomas was too weak to reach out and push them away.

The familiar and comforting scent of vanilla washed over him as Newt sat. He sat like an old man, adjusting his limbs and even sighing deeply. Everyone who had spent time out in The Scorch sat like an old man. Especially Minho, who spent years being a runner. Being in such a nice place, where their bodies didn’t constantly have to work overtime, was relaxing.

Thomas could feel eyes on him, but it was hard to focus on his surroundings. He felt disoriented and half asleep, despite the excitement of seeing Newt.

“They’re taking your blood for the cure?” Newt wondered, leaning back in his chair. He had remembered what Thomas had told him before he had left.

Newt crossed his arms over his chest for extra warmth, and crossed his ankles in front of him. He knocked his boots lightly against Thomas’s sock clad feet to catch his attention. His voice was laced with worry, but Thomas didn’t catch it in his off state. “You look like you’re about to bugging pass out.”

“It’s because you’re here,” Thomas teased, although his voice was monotonous due to his extreme drowsiness. Because of that, he missed Newt’s smile. His smile shone so brightly that it was the sun itself. The brilliant colors outside weren’t even comparable.

Newt seemed unable to help himself. He pulled his body forward to sit on the edge of the metal chair, his knees knocking into Thomas’s. He reached out - warm long fingers curling around the nape of Thomas’s neck.

Thomas, who was unable to see the advance, jumped at the sudden contact. His head tilted forward, a small gasp escaping his lips. Without his knowledge, Newt’s head had leaned forward and invaded his personal space. As Thomas’s head tilted downward, their foreheads gently bumped into each other.

Newt’s fingers kept their strong hold on his neck, and tightened slightly as they touched. Their foreheads stayed pressed together, faces close, and their breathing intertwining into one.

Thomas’s eyes fluttered shut. He knew that Newt wasn’t planning on kissing him, especially since he was half asleep already, but the closeness overwhelmed him in ways he couldn’t explain. The warmth that seeped into him from his touch was another feeling he couldn’t explain.

Newt was a breath of fresh air. He was the butterflies in his stomach, and the sunlight outside. He was the light breeze that flowed freely through the open window, and he was the warmth of the inside. He was everything.

With their foreheads still pressed together, Newt spoke gently. His breath fanned across Thomas’s lips.

“Don’t leave again.”

Thomas smiled, eyes still closed. His chest heaved as he inhaled. “I won’t.”

“Promise me.” His voice shook slightly.

“I promise.”

The door slammed open suddenly, startling both boys. It was dinner time, and no one was usually here around that time, too busy eating and basking in everyone’s company. Thomas opened his eyes and moved his forehead away from Newt’s to look around him towards the door. There, in the doorway, stood Teresa.

Newt turned in his chair then, too, hand dropping from Thomas’s neck. At the sight of Newt, Teresa straightened her back. She suddenly looked defensive, and guarded. Her shoulders squared, and her dark eyes flashed. Before anyone could speak, she turned back through the open door. She slammed it behind her with as more force than she had opened it.

Thomas watched Newt’s side profile. He didn’t turn around right away, his jaw tight as he stared at the place Teresa disappeared. When he did turn, though, his lips were pressed tightly together, and he had on a blank expression. Those chocolate eyes lacked their usual sparkle.

“So why do you all sleep in this cabin with a bunch of guys when there are homes?”

Thomas was surprised at the sudden change of topic, but followed along anyway. He couldn’t imagine how hard it was to look at Teresa after everything that had happened recently, and especially after what Newt had found out. If he could help Newt distract himself with simple conversation, then he was all for it.

“Well, a home is built for you if you have a family. If you get married, or if you have multiple blood relatives. We tried to ask for separate places, even if it was just for the boys’ and I, but Rafael refused. He wasn’t the fondest with me. Took it out on all of us.”

The blank expression on Newt’s face began slipping away. His curiosity was getting the best of him. Newt spoke again, his head tilting slightly to the side as he stared at Thomas. Thomas felt his heart go weak at the sight - finding Newt absolutely adorable. He wanted to hold him forever. “Why didn’t he like you?”

“Because I didn’t like him,” Thomas admitted simply, shrugging his shoulders. His bad shoulder stung slightly, the old wound randomly aggravated by the most random movements. Thomas raised a hand to rub it absentmindedly. “I rejected his authority. I didn’t listen to him. I caused trouble.”

Newt shook his head slightly - teasingly. An ‘of course you did’ type of head shake. A small smile tugged at his perfect lips. “Why don’t you like him?”

“He was the one who pulled me from you,” Thomas muttered, his voice catching in his throat. Newt’s eyebrows shot upward toward his hairline. “Made us leave you on that building, or else he wouldn’t take any of us.”

There was a moment of silence. The small smile that had been playing at his lips slowly dropped. Newt crossed his ankles in front of him again, leaning back in the metal chair once more. His eyes flashed with an expression that Thomas could only guess. Hatred? Annoyance? Sadness?

“But...you passed out, right? He made that decision for you?”

“He did,” Thomas muttered, his hand reaching up to rub at his bad shoulder once more. “I was losing a lot of blood. We were arguing, I was refusing to go, but he won. I passed out as I was being dragged away from you.”

“That’s so…” Newt paused. His eyes flickered away from Thomas’s, almost as if he felt guilty. He paused for a few moments more, his eyes still hanging low. They fixated on the pillows on Thomas’s bed. “What a bastard. I’m so sorry.”

“I was sure that you were dead,” Thomas whispered, his eyes closing from the sudden weight of emotions pressing on them. “But I just couldn’t...I wouldn’t have left you. Even though I thought you were...I would have let the rest go on ahead. Even though Minho would have probably dragged my ass on that berg anyway.”

The silence that stretched out after Thomas’s statement was almost deafening. It seemed to press in on him from all sides, as if the air was suddenly thick with it. Thomas took a deep breath, attempting to calm his racing heart.

_He’s alive now. That’s all that matters._

“I’m about to fall asleep,” Thomas admitted, slowly opening his eyes. Newt had been staring at him, sadness taking over his face. At the sight, Thomas hesitantly reached out to Newt. Their hands bumped into each other’s, Thomas lazy and weak in his movements. Newt’s fingers curled immediately around Thomas’s hand, and began stroking his knuckles.

Thomas almost seemed to have forgotten how soft and beautiful Newt’s skin was.

“It was a long day for me too,” Newt admitted, his fingers still tracing Thomas’s skin. He stared down at their intertwined fingers, chocolate eyes still sad. His caressing was gentle and caring. “I’m pretty buggin’ tired myself.”

“Nap with me, then,” Thomas muttered, his half asleep state causing him to be more confident than usual. He reached over with his free hand to push the pillows that had been propping up his arm out of the way and onto the floor.

Newt’s fingers froze on his skin.

“Here?” Newt asked, voice small and disbelieving. Thomas didn’t answer with his voice. Instead, he let go of Newt’s hand. He turned his body slowly to slide onto his bed, head still spinning from the blood loss. Newt watched him, unmoving, as Thomas comfortably situated himself. He propped an arm under the pillow, and lay on his side in order to face Newt.

Unknown to Thomas, Newt was terrified that he could hear his heartbeat across the small space between them. It seemed to be running a marathon in his chest.

His palms began to lightly sweat.

Thomas nodded lazily, his eyes already growing heavy. All he wanted was for Newt to get over here already. All he wanted was to soak in the warmth of the blonde laying next to him. Thomas yawned, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand.

Newt’s heart leapt to his throat.

“We’ve done this before,” Newt muttered. It wasn’t a question. His eyes shone brightly in the moonlight spilling from the window. He was fixated by Thomas.

“Yes,” Thomas breathed. His mind raced with the sudden flood of memories.

Hands shaking, Newt reached down to untie his boots.

“You can borrow some of my shorts. I doubt you want to sleep in jeans,” Thomas mumbled after a few moments of silence, eyes still closed. Because of this, he missed Newt’s hands freezing on his laces. “They’re in the bottom drawer under my bed. Grab a clean shirt, too.”

Newt was currently blushing at the thought of _wearing! Thomas’s! clothes!_

“Thank you,” Newt muttered, not sure if his voice would betray him if he said anything else. He quickly slid off of his boots, and bent over to reach under Thomas’s bed, pulling the bottom plastic drawer open. He began rummaging through the shorts, looking for soft basketball shorts.

“Where is everyone? Don’t want to get naked in front of them, too,” Newt joked, finally finding the perfect pair of shorts. He pulled open the top drawer and found a soft, green shirt.

Although Thomas’s eyes were still closed, his heart leaped into his throat. The sudden pressure on his body from the thought was overwhelming.

“It’s bonfire night,” Thomas muttered, voice a bit shaky. He hoped Newt wouldn’t notice. He opened his eyes the slightest bit to look at him. He was still sitting in the chair, but had a pair of shorts and his shirt clutched in his hands. “Usually people stay there pretty late. There’s only about six guys in this cabin, including the guys. We got lucky. We didn’t get a packed one. There’s a lot more here.”

“Will I stay here with you guys?” Newt’s voice was hopeful. His eyes were worried. Thomas smiled gently at him.

“I wouldn’t let you go anywhere else,” Thomas admitted. He pointed lazily at the bed behind Newt. The one that he couldn’t stand to look at for months after Newt’s supposed death. The one on his left side. “That one is yours. Even when I thought you wouldn’t ever be able to claim it a few months ago, it was always yours.”

Newt’s eyes scanned Thomas’s face. He could _feel_ the sadness radiating off of him, as if it flooded out of him in waves. Thomas’s eyes betrayed him. He held a sadness in him that even if Newt were to get his memory back, he would never recover from.

“Is there a restroom around here I could change in?” Newt asked, obviously trying to steer the conversation away from the current topic. Thomas was thankful. He nodded.

“Yeah, that’s the door on the other side. But you can just change here. I promise I won’t look.”

Newt let out a huff of air from his nose. A small laugh. Thomas scrunched his nose teasingly in response, pulling his hands up to cover his eyes like a small child.

“Next you’re going to promise not to take advantage of me during the night, yeah?” Newt’s voice teased. Thomas’s abdomen clenched at the sound of Newt’s belt buckle. He forced out a strained laugh, his mind reeling. It felt as if the world had tilted on its axis.

“Yes, that was next. I promise I won’t take advantage of you.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be taking advantage,” Newt assured him. Newt had obviously meant for his voice to sound confident in his declaration, but it came out uneven and shaky. His accent seemed to hitch as well, as if he was nervous. Thomas felt the air _woosh!_ out of his lungs.

_That was consent._

But, he wouldn’t take it. Not yet, at least. If they went any farther than they already had, and Newt regained his memory, he might regret it immensely. Thomas knew that he couldn’t handle that rejection.

That promise that Thomas kept to himself, to not go any further than they already had, seemed to diminish by the second as he heard Newt pulling off his belt and coat.

He thought of the time in Janson’s facility, when he saw Newt in a large shirt and tight black briefs. He couldn’t help but remember how lean, and _strong_ his legs looked. He thought of the beautiful milky color they were, and how _soft_ the skin looked stretched over his muscles.

Thomas couldn’t help but wonder what color his underwear was right now.

Newt changed quickly, and Thomas hoped that he was as eager as he was for them to lay down together.

“You can look now,” Newt breathed above him. As Thomas did, removing his hands from his eyes, the sight of the blonde left him breathless. His hair was messy, as if he had been running his hands through it nervously.

Thomas rarely saw Newt in shorts. Nights in The Scorch were always very cold, and days very hot. In the day, though, it was safer to wear jeans. There was never any opportunity to wear shorts in this world. Now, though, Newt stood there in _his shorts._ The milky skin on his legs looked better than he remembered. The fact that Newt was wearing _his shorts!_ made him even more dizzy in the head.

The fact that Newt was wearing _his shirt!_ with a color that brought out the beauty in his skin tone made him feel even more upside down than before. Thomas’s shirt was a bit too long for him, but tight on the shoulders due to Newt’s being a bit more broad and muscular.

He’d only seen Newt’s legs once before, and that was back in Janson’s Facility. But if it were up to him, he would happily look at Newt in shorts every day for the rest of their lives.

Newt stared down at him, chocolate eyes nervous. He was asking the unspoken question of whether this was still okay. Thomas gave him a sleepy smile, and reached out for his best friends wrist. His fingers wrapped around his warm skin before tugging gently.

Newt let him lead. He slowly lowered himself into Thomas’s bed, sliding down next to him. Newt propped himself on his side, just like Thomas, in order to look at him. His short blonde, messy hair settled everywhere on the pillow. He looked like an angel in the moonlight, with stars alive in his eyes.

His soft face stared across the small distance at Thomas, his cheek against the pillow smushed just slightly. It caused his lips to appear to be pouting a bit, and Thomas had a hard time distracting himself from staring.

How close they were in the dark, on Thomas’s bed, and without anyone else in the room, felt intensely intimate. There seemed to be a pressure hanging in the space between them, hovering over them and slowing becoming more suffocating and overwhelming by the second.

Even though the moonlight from the window was spilling onto Newt’s back, Thomas could still see those damn stars swimming in his eyes. Their faces were about a foot apart, but he was _captivated._ Transfixed by his beauty.

Fuck, he was so in love.

Newt stared back at him, his whole body tense as he watched the same stars dance in Thomas’s eyes.

Thomas couldn’t ever get over the fact of how _manly_ Newt was. He knew that there were many versions of what people thought were manly, but to him, Newt was something entirely unique. He had the broad shoulders, the tough exterior, strong arms and hands, with his veins prominent and running along them. His fingers were long and lean, his jaw strong, and his legs long and strong.

He knew that Newt was dangerous in every aspect, a _great_ fucking shot, a rage inside of him that was hard to control at times, and the ability to really hurt someone with just his bare hands. He was a true threat to the people that he didn’t like. He was terrifying. He has seen the looks of fear on countless people’s faces at the sight of an enraged Newt. He has _seen_ how much damage Newt could do.

He was just like that with enemies, of course. With the people he cared most about, though, he was exactly the opposite. He never lost his temper - he never was irrational or angry. He was calm and level headed, and treated everyone as if they _mattered._ He was fair and kind, and he was their glue keeping them together. Keeping them sane.

And with Thomas, he resembled something entirely different. He was gentle, caring, soft, comforting, and the nicest person he had ever met. He knew that Newt could never hurt him mentally or physically. His touches were soft and gentle, and his eyes softened at him with every glance. His insides seemed to turn to goo when he looked at Thomas. Thomas knew that he would protect him with his whole life without hesitation, just as Thomas would for him.

He looked at Thomas just as Thomas looked at him - like he was everything. He was the sun, the moon, the stars that hung in the sky. He was a breath of fresh air, and a beautiful view on a high mountain. He was the beautiful morning light as the sun rose, as it set, and the feeling coming home on a long day. He was _everything._

So, a strong man was in his bed with him. But the most gentle and caring man was also in bed with him, too.

Newt took up a lot of space. His shoulders were wider than Thomas’s, even though he was a bit skinnier. His whole presence, the aura that he emitted, was overwhelming.

The silence between them hung in the air. They stared at one another in silence, eyes mapping out every crevice of the others face. They both seemed to be lost for words. Lost in each other. Newt’s eyes wouldn’t keep still as Thomas watched them, constantly searching his face.

If Thomas concentrated hard enough, he could hear and _feel_ Newt’s even breathing.

The sudden realization made the whole moment a million times more intimate. A pressure, a light fire, rose in his abdomen. He felt suffocated by the intensity of the small space between them.

Newt sucked in his bottom lip - a nervous habit. Thomas’s eyes zeroed in on the action. And, unsurprisingly, his dick twitched in his shorts. The moment itself was already too much to handle - too overwhelming intimate. It was already hard for him to concentrate. He suddenly wasn’t tired at all anymore.

He was a teenager, after all.

The memory of how warm Newt’s mouth was, how hot and slick his _tongue_ was, caused Thomas’s mind to come undone.

Thomas, attempting to be slick, blindly reached for the blanket that was pushed against the wall. He threw it over the two of them with one swift motion.

“Thought you could get rid of me that easily?” Newt gently asked, breaking the smile with a small smile playing on his lips. He hadn’t seemed to notice the way Thomas’s mood had shifted. Newt tugged the blanket around himself as well, getting warm and comfortable. Thomas beamed back at him, ignoring the pressure on his lower region.

“I would never try to.”

“It took me a while to not be mad at your decision,” Newt admitted, eyes still scanning his face. Soft, distant voices trailed through the open window. Thomas couldn’t make out what they were saying. “Once I really thought about it though, I know you made the right decision. And you bloody knew I would follow your ass.”

“I hoped,” Thomas admitted. He shifted his arm under the pillow, settling in more. After his shuffling around, he found himself a few inches closer to Newt than he had been before. The blonde didn’t seem to act effected at all, but his pupils looked blown wide under the moonlight.

Newt glanced down at their hands above the blanket - sitting close on the mattress. He reached out hesitantly and began playing with Thomas’s fingers with slow motions. The hairs on Thomas’s arms stood on end at the warm contact. The smile on Newt’s lips widened, but also softened.

“I’m glad I followed you. It seems really nice here. Everyone is really nice.”

“I can’t begin to explain to you how glad I am that you did,” Thomas muttered, his hand turning to meet Newt’s fingertips. With a slight hesitation, he rose his hand and slipped his fingers through the blondes. Newt’s eyes glanced up at him through long eyelashes. “Did you look at the book?”

“I did,” Newt admitted, his voice as soft as his smile. Thomas continued to stare down at their intertwined fingers, running a thumb across Newt’s knuckles. Their skin together didn’t make Thomas’s heart rate slow down by any means. It also didn’t help the situation in his shorts. “I can’t imagine how hard it must have been to think I had died. Reading everything you wrote made me so sad.”

“It ruined me,” Thomas muttered, his eyes growing heavy. He took a deep breath, his eyes dropping down to stare at their intertwined fingers. The soft moonlight that spilled in through the window seemed much too blinding all of a sudden. “I was...half of myself. I wasn’t all the way there.”

“I can’t imagine,” Newt whispered, his voice barely audible. “I couldn’t even manage these past two weeks and my memory isn’t even back yet.”

_Yet._

Thomas laughed then, breaking their hands hand apart before reaching out and playfully pushing Newt’s strong chest away from him. Newt’s eyes glanced up, twinkling in the light. His eyes seemed to smile more than those pretty lips did.

“Get back here,” Newt playfully snapped, voice low as he reached out to wrap his long fingers around Thomas’s wrist. He yanked him towards his chest, pulling him close. They were now only a few inches apart, their hands intertwined and pressed against Newt’s strong chest. Newt’s eyes caught his in the small space between them. He stared down at him with pupils blown and a teasing smirk on those _lips._

Thomas’s breath caught in his throat.

He had never touched Newt’s chest before.

He was suddenly so hard that he was becoming sleepy once more. It was as if all of his energy was going to his lower regions instead of his brain. Truly, the phrase, thinking with his dick.

“Are you trying to make me all... _ugh?”_ Thomas asked breathlessly, words failing him. He scrunched up his nose in embarrassment as Newt broke out into laughter. Newt smiled at him lovingly.

“I’m sorry,” Newt muttered teasingly, his head settling deeper into the pillow. With the motion, the distance between them closed even more. Newt’s smile slowly faded, almost as if he was just realizing how close they were. Newt began to chew on his bottom lip again as he stared down at Thomas.

Thomas kept quiet, not trusting his voice. He watched Newt’s smile drop completely, and he immediately thought the worst. Was he finally beginning to regret all of this?

Before Thomas could even think another thought, though, he watched those chocolate eyes drop. They were now staring unbashfully down at Thomas’s lips.

The silence stretched thin. It was almost unbearable now. All Thomas wanted Newt to do was _talk._

“Can I ask you something?” Newt asked, voice hesitant. His eyes flickered back to Thomas’s, and Thomas had to inhale deeply to calm his nerves. He was really hoping that he was going to ask to kiss him.

“Anything.”

“Can I ask you about some of my memories?” Newt asked, a nervous smile playing on his lips. Thomas was thrilled that they would finally talk about this, but also extremely disappointed about no kissing. “They came back to me in dreams, vivid bloody dreams. I could never see your face in them but…”

Newt trailed off. Thomas kept quiet, allowing the blonde to speak. Newt took a deep breath, and settled his face deeper into the pillow. The hand that was holding Thomas’s, pressing it into his chest, began to lightly shake. Thomas was sure that Newt had no idea that it was even doing so.

“I couldn’t see your face, but the feeling that you’re giving me right now is the same that I felt in every one of those dreams,” Newt breathed. His voice was still hesitant, hands still shaking, but his eyes remained locked on Thomas’s. He was attempting to be brave and determined. “I could tell the difference between the dream memories with the rest of the guys. I didn’t feel this way with any of them.”

Thomas didn’t say a word. He didn’t trust himself to. He felt as if his insides were _alive,_ squirming and jumping around inside of him.

Newt had been serious. To some extent, the old Newt had the same feelings that Thomas did towards him. The old Newt felt differently about Thomas than everyone else. Of course, Newt had said this before, but he never believed him. It was so hard to believe. It was everything that he had ever wanted.

“Ask me,” Thomas murmured, the fingers on Newt’s chest splaying out under his tight grasp. Newt’s chest heaved under his fingers, as if he wasn’t expecting his sudden touch. Thomas’s eyes slid downward to look at his hand pressed against Newt’s strong chest. At this new angle, his tips of his fingertips could feel the faint beating of Newt’s heart. It was beating just as fast as Thomas’s - faster than it should be.

Thomas felt those gorgeous eyes on him, but didn’t dare look up. His hands were also shaking now - pressed against the strong chest in front of him. The warmth radiating off of his chest seeped deep into Thomas’s skin, and into every inch of him.

“I’ll ask more...happy ones for now. Yeah?” Newt asked, voice soft and uneasy. Thomas nodded, heart racing. Newt nodded back at him before speaking once more. “I remember being near this small lake, and I remember tickling you.”

Thomas laughed then, surprised by the random memory. He looked up at Newt, unable to help himself. Those beautiful eyes were looking down at him, and Thomas could swear that they were smiling just as much as his lips.

“Was that real?”

 _“Yes,”_ Thomas breathed, nodding excitedly. He couldn’t help the smile that took over his face. He felt a burning happiness inside of him. “That was real.”

 

_He playfully swatted the blondes hand away from his face as Newt reached down again, rewarding him the sound of a world shattering laugh. “What’s with you touching my face today?”_

_His tone was teasing, and Newt caught on quickly. Newt sank down next to Thomas, sitting on the lake’s shore next to him. “So what? Something wrong with that?”_

_Thomas laughed at his tone, and had to swat away the blondes hand once more as it reached out to him again. “I didn’t say that.”_

_“Then let me touch them,” Newt whined playfully, turning his body toward Thomas to gain better access. He lifted his other arm, both hands ready to attack his cheeks. Thomas, without thinking, playfully reached a hand back into the lake and scooped up a handful of water before tossing it at Newt’s chest._

_There was a gasp from Newt, then silence. Thomas’s eyes - wide with shock at his stupid decision - weren’t half as wide as Newt’s. The shocked expression quickly fell from the blondes face, and terror gripped Thomas at the smirk that suddenly took up his face instead. He was ready for revenge._

_“Oh, you’re going to pay for that.”_

_“No!” Thomas screeched, scrambling to his feet. He took about one step before he felt arms wrap around his waist and drag him backward. He gasped at the feeling of Newt’s hands on him, sliding against his bare skin as his shirt accidentally lifted. Newt yanked him toward him, surprisingly strong. Thomas knocked into Newt's chest, head falling against his shoulder, and Newt began to tickle him._

_Thomas didn’t remember ever being tickled, but he knew it was not something that he enjoyed. Terror gripped into him, despite the laughing coming from his mouth, as Newt’s fingertips worked gently at his sides. Thomas began gasping for air. Newt's fingers were still grazing against his bare torso, and he was blushing like no one's business. “I wasn’t thinking! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! Please!"_

 

“Thank you for reminding me that you’re ticklish,” Newt murmured, eyes gleaming at him across the small space between them. His words were still spilling across Thomas’s lips - much too close - but Thomas wasn’t thinking about kissing him anymore. All he wanted to do now was to hear all about the memories that Newt could remember.

Newt, teasing him, unhooked his fingers from Thomas’s wrist. He slowly reached out and gently wound a hand around Thomas’s waist.

His hand sent goosebumps down Thomas’s spine, leaving him shivering under the blonde’s fingertips. Newt’s hand flattened against Thomas’s lower back, over his shirt, as if he wanted to keep him there forever. Thomas’s hand remained on his chest, fingertips still feeling the blonde’s facing heartbeat.

“I’m 100% sure this next one was just a dream,” Newt admitted, although his smile wasn’t fading. His pressed gently on Thomas’s back, as if to catch his attention again. As if Thomas wasn’t too busy getting lost in those chocolate eyes. “It just seemed too...perfect. Did we dance together? In a big building?”

_The library._

Thomas nodded, unable to speak. His voice was caught in his throat - his emotions pushing to the surface. Reveling in the memories, the close proximity of Newt, and his own feelings, were leaving him overwhelmed and speechless.

He was remembering.

“Yeah?” Newt asked, his smile impossibly widening. “We did?”

“We did,” Thomas whispered. He could barely hear his own voice, but he hoped Newt could hear it.

 

_“Come on, Tommy, loosen up!” Newt laughed, his eyes crinkling and his head falling back in his laughter. The sight of how carefree Newt was feeling warmed his heart and left him breathless. “Dance with me!”_

_Their fingers still intertwined, Newt kept up the motions with his hands. Soon enough, Thomas began moving his shoulders as well. His head began bobbing along with Newt’s, and the moment shifted into something that wasn’t scary. It wasn’t their living Hell. There weren’t any mauled dead bodies upstairs. There wasn’t dried blood spilled on the books scattered on the floor around them. It was just them. In the whole world, it was just them. Dancing, in the middle of the library, after they had been sure that they would never hear music again._

_Newt caught him by surprise by letting go of one hand and moving his arm above Thomas’s head, as if he wanted him to twirl under it. Thomas couldn’t help the laugh that ripped through his lungs - the carefree bubble that they were in expanding and softening. He did just as Newt wanted, and twirled under his arm._

 

In the moonlight that spilled through the window, Newt’s skin looked unrealistically soft. His features were always soft, despite the hard edges on his face. Thomas wanted to reach out and touch his face, caress his soft skin. Instead, his hand kept still on the blonde’s chest.

That didn’t stop Thomas from getting absolutely lost in the blonde’s eyes. He felt as if they were the only two in the entire universe in this moment. Thomas could swear that time had stopped around them.

“What about you kicking something off of me? I was really scared, and you saved me,” Newt whispered, his smile turning slightly sad. When Thomas nodded, Newt’s fingertips gently pressed firmer onto Thomas’s back.

Almost as if the gesture gave him strength, Thomas was able to speak.

“A crank.”

 

_Thomas, without thinking, raised a leg and roughly shoved the crank off. It was as if his adrenaline and his terror of losing Newt had given him his own version of superhero strength. The crank flew off of the blonde, and slammed into the glass railing. Just as it had done to the wall, it flew straight through it, and plummeted to the lower level below._

_“Newt, are you good?” Thomas demanded, reaching down and grabbing hold of the blondes jacket. He yanked him upward towards his body, the superhuman strength seeming to still be running through his body. This was a new determined that he had never felt before. This was the most “life or death” thing that he had ever gone through, and that was saying a lot. Even the grievers going after him and Minho were nothing compared to seeing Newt being pinned to the floor by a crank._

_“Yeah!” Newt gasped breathlessly, clutching onto Thomas for a moment. His arms held onto the material of Thomas’s shirt at his waist, almost as if he needed him as his anchor in this moment. He seemed to be shaking as he glanced up into Thomas’s face - looking relieved and thankful. Another emotion that Thomas couldn’t quite place ran through those big brown eyes. “Thanks, Tommy.”_

 

“Did we ever speak about running away?” Newt asked, his voice a whisper and his smile not happy at all anymore. It was slowly fading from his face, his eyes searching deeply into Thomas’s. They were searching for something that Thomas wasn’t sure he could give him.

It felt as if a golf ball was suddenly stuck in Thomas’s throat. There was a pressure on his chest, on his head, and on his eyes. Thomas squinted across the small space at Newt, attempting to control his suddenly overwhelming emotions.

He nodded.

 

_“Let’s run away,” Thomas pleaded. His vision was blurring more by the second. He didn’t even realize that it was tears that were blurring his vision until Newt’s gentle fingers came up to brush them away. Newt dropped his wrist and used both hands to wipe away the tears - used both hands to cup Thomas’s face. Newt was suddenly just a step away from him._

_“Where do you want to go?” Newt asked, eyes searching Thomas’s face as he lost his composure. Thomas couldn’t see his own face - couldn’t see the shaking lips and teary eyes. He couldn’t see how his whole body shook and how his breathing was heaving his chest up and down rapidly. “We can go anywhere. Just name it. I’ll take you there.”_

_“Away. Away from here. Away from all of this.”_

_“Okay,” Newt whispered. His voice sounded broken to Thomas’s ears, and through his own tears, he couldn’t see Newt’s had begun to fall. “Okay, let’s go then. You and me, okay?”_

_“You and me,” Thomas repeated in a whisper, his panic attack still intensely coursing through his body. Newt kept wiping the tears streaming down Thomas’s face away with his thumbs, hands still cupping his cheeks with his warm hands. “Please. Please don’t…”_

_“I’d follow you anywhere,” Newt muttered, thumbs still dragging away the tears on Thomas’s cheeks. “You already know that, Tommy.”_

_“But you can’t this time,” Thomas whispered. He closed his eyes, the pain beginning to be too overwhelming. His voice was now far away - trapped somewhere between them. “You can’t follow me this time.”_

_Newt didn’t respond. He just kept wiping away the tears until Thomas could breathe again._

 

Newt’s eyes were suddenly glistening in the moonlight. Thomas had no idea that it was halfway due to Newt remembering the intense feeling of sadness that he experienced in the memory, but also due to the sudden wetness in Thomas’s eyes.

Thomas, without thinking, lifted his hand from the blonde’s chest. His fingertips slowly reached up, reached out, and brushed against Newt’s jaw. The skin there was soft, just as he thought it would be. Newt’s eyes fluttered closed at the contact. Thomas continued to brush his fingertips against Newt’s skin as he spoke - a fire igniting inside of him.

“I remember you yelling at someone, asking where I was. I was scared you were going to kill him. Real?”

“Real,” Thomas whispered, eyes still watching Newt’s face. Newt’s eyes were still closed, and Thomas’s fingers caressed the left side of his face. He was mad at himself for not doing this earlier.

 

_"I swear I’ll kill him if you don’t tell me where he is-"_

_"I'm right here! I'm right here, I'm right here!" Newt's voice rang out, distant but recognizable, snapping Thomas out of his blind rage. He glanced up, hands still wrapped around the mans neck. Newt was rushing towards him, hands reaching out to Thomas as if he wanted to drag him away, but was too scared to try. His face looked panicked but also relieved._

_"Thomas, stop! I'm right here! Stop!"_

_Thomas let go of the man and backed off, his whole anger fit subsiding quickly. Newt's face, always the sun in a dark situation, was all that he could see. His beacon of hope. He watched Newt finally reach him, and saw him take a step closer - felt his hands on his upper arms. Newt pulled him away from the man quickly, eyes never leaving Thomas's._

_"I'm right here."_

 

Newt’s eyes fluttered open. He stared at Thomas for a moment before removing his hand from his waist. He slowly brought it up, all the way to their faces, and rubbed his thumb across Thomas’s cheeks.

Thomas hadn’t even known that he had been crying.

“How about teaching me to drive? Was that you too?”

Thomas laughed weakly at the nice memory. Newt smiled just as weakly back at him, emotions overwhelming him just as much as they were to Thomas. His eyes were glistening as well, but the tears hadn’t spilled over just yet.

Thomas nodded before nuzzling his face into Newt’s hand, dropping his own hand from the blonde. His hand dropped down and wrapped around Newt’s waist, just as Newt had done to him before.

Newt continued to stroke Thomas’s cheeks.

 

_“You’re doing g-” Thomas had turned back to compliment him, but slammed his head into something hard and blonde. Thomas yelped, and the car once more slammed to a halt. Thomas flew forward, his head once again hitting Newt’s. Their foreheads had bashed together both times._

_Newt had apparently leaned forward for a better look outside of the window, and Thomas had been too close as well. They had smacked their foreheads together in response to Thomas turning his head quickly._

_Newt yelled out painfully, quickly putting the car in park. He unfastened his belt quickly with fumbling fingers as Thomas backed away from him, retreating to his own seat._

_”I never want to drive again,” Newt declared, rushing out of the car, ears pinker than his cheeks._

 

“Did you also cut my hair?”

Thomas couldn’t help but laugh again, nodding into Newt’s palm. He buried his tear stained face against Newt’s hand, hiding himself from view.

 

_Thomas continued his cutting, Newt's hair actually coming out pretty decent. He had shortened it drastically, but still enough to let Newt run a hand through it, which he loved doing. As Thomas began cutting near Newt's small ears, he felt his laugh._

_"The sound is quite bloody terrifying," Newt admitted, laughing once more. He pulled his head away for a moment, his hand tightening on Thomas's knee. "It's proper scary, knowing your clumsy hands may cut my ear off."_

 

“Okay, I’ll just ask one more,” Newt whispered above Thomas. Thomas nodded, taking a deep breath.

It was hard hearing about these memories. Memories were the only thing that Thomas had to hold onto when he thought Newt had died. He replayed these memories over and over again in his head before he fell asleep. These memories had also played over and over again in his head every moment after that night on the WCKD building. These memories haunted his every waking moment, and haunted his dreams.

Talking about them, with the man he loved, the man who starred in every single one of those memories, was intense.

“I think this was a dream,” Newt muttered. “This was is kind of hazy. But...we were really tired. And you were telling me about how you think I was your best friend before The Maze.”

Thomas’s heart sank.

_What?_

“And then we kissed...kind of. We were on sleeping bags on the floor, and-” Newt stopped talking when Thomas lifted his head to stare at Newt, shock on his face.

 

_Thomas felt his heartbeat in his ears, felt it in his throat. Newt’s breath was still spilling against his own mouth, the shivers in his spine overwhelming. Thomas felt as if his whole entire body was in flames. With the light warm breeze and the close proximity of the boy, Thomas felt exhaustion pull his eyes closed once more. Thomas’s fingers stopped their motion slowly. Thomas felt Newt’s breathing become slower along with his, sleep finding the other boy as well._

_Thomas’s head, since it was slightly more elevated than the blondes, tilted downwards towards the boy. Slowly, so slowly that he didn’t even register it doing so._

_Thomas felt a warm pressure against his mouth. His lips parted slightly without his knowledge, without his consent. Newt’s breath mixed with his, the boys becoming one. Thomas didn’t know who had leaned in first - maybe both boys together. He wasn’t sure, and he was very sure he didn’t care. Did he really feel Newt’s mouth graze against his, or was it his hallucinations from his exhaustion again like earlier? Thomas realized that he wished more than anything that this was really happening._

 

“That was real?” Newt asked, looking worried and curious. Thomas didn’t speak for a moment, unable to believe what he was hearing.

That hadn’t been a dream. They had kissed that night such a long time ago, and Newt had remembered, just as he had. Of course, he didn’t know if the old Newt knew if it was real or assumed it had been a dream as well, but he definitely had remembered it. The old Newt hadn’t treated him any differently after that, and it was obvious to see that the old Newt wasn’t disgusted by the idea.

Newt looked torn at Thomas’s expression. He seemed to catch on quickly - knowing it was real. Of course he couldn’t begin to guess why Thomas looked so emotional over the mention of that memory, though.

_The old Newt had wanted to kiss him, too._

After a few moments of silence, Newt shook his head sadly. He smiled at Thomas, his hand cupping Thomas’s cheek as he attempted to pull him back to reality. Even this Newt could tell when he got trapped in his own thoughts.

“And you love me? Is that real?” Newt whispered, his voice thick with emotion. His eyes were staring deeply into Thomas’s, begging for an answer.

Thomas couldn’t help but laugh through the sudden batch of new tears that streaked down his face.

“Real. So fucking real, Newt.”

“I know you said you wouldn’t take advantage of me,” Newt whispered suddenly, his warm breath spilling against Thomas’s lips. Those chocolate eyes were still cast low, staring deeply into his eyes. Thomas nervously sucked in his bottom lip in a poor attempt to hide the shaking of it. “But what about me?”

“What…” Thomas choked on his words. He cleared his throat, his voice still thick with emotion. Newt’s grip on his face tightened, and it derailed Thomas. His head began spinning. “What about you?”

“Can I take advantage of you?” Newt murmured, his face dropping low. His voice had deepened drastically, low and raspy, and tears had begun streaking down his own cheeks. Thomas couldn’t help but gasp softly, the close proximity overwhelming and shocking. Newt stopped an inch away from his mouth, forehead pressed against his, with his eyes flickering up to Thomas’s. They locked onto his, determined, tear filled, and hazy. Thomas’s heart jumped to his throat. “Please, Tommy, please. Let me kiss you.”

_Tommy._

Even though his whole body was shaking, and his thoughts were swarming around relentlessly in his head, Thomas spoke with confidence. This was something he wanted more than he wanted to breathe.

“It wouldn’t be taking advantage,” Thomas whispered against his lips, repeating the same words that Newt had said earlier. Newt’s eyes flashed.

Even though Newt was the one who was asking, who had initiated this, Thomas moved first. His hand on Newt’s waist gripped onto the fabric of his t-shirt, and he held onto it as if it was his anchor. Thomas tilted his head upward, closing the distance between them.

The moment their lips touched, Thomas felt his mind unwravel. Every emotion that he had been feeling since he first met Newt seemed to push to the surface, and spin relentlessly around his mind. The kisses that they had shared before had nothing on this one. The warmth that spread like wildfire throughout his body at the feeling of Newt’s lips on his caused his mind to short circuit.

This kiss wasn’t like coming home after a long day. It was like coming home for the first time - coming home and knowing that this was _it._ Knowing that there was safety and happiness waiting right under the threshold of the door - the feeling of finally being able to step inside after years of waiting for a home.

With his strong hand gripping Thomas’s face, Newt’s mouth sealed onto his. His lips were softer than Thomas had remembered - warmer and more captivating. He held onto Thomas desperately - helplessly, as if he was scared to lose him again. There was a salty taste that lingered between their lips - from his tears or Newt’s, Thomas didn’t know.

Their lips parted for a brief moment before Newt gently tilted his head, angling himself to deepen the kiss. His hand moved from Thomas’s face and traveled down, sliding under his arm and pressing against his back. He used the motion to pull Thomas close as he kissed him softly, but very passionately. Their bodies slowly pressed firmly into one another’s, the gap between them closing completely as they collided.

Thomas’s hand, still on Newt’s back, traveled up to his shoulders. He held on tightly, holding onto Newt like the anchor that he always was to him. He held on tightly, hoping that Newt knew that he never intended to let him go.

Thomas pressed closer, folding into Newt, as he kissed him back. Newt’s mouth was warm, _so warm,_ and he was losing himself in him. He tasted better than Thomas remembered, better than Thomas could have imagined, and his mind was reeling. The world was still tilted on its axis, folding them into one another.

No matter how close they were, it wasn’t close enough. It would never feel close enough. All Thomas wanted to do was be _closer._

Even though this kiss started off much slower than the rest of the ones they had shared, this one was much more intimate. The anticipation, the waiting, the sharing of their memories, all seemed to have lead them to this exact moment.

Newt softened every hard edge in Thomas. He eased every rough day, erased every bad thought, and strengthened every good memory.

Thomas’s hand slid down Newt’s back once more, and without thinking twice, he slid it under the soft fabric of Newt’s t-shirt. As soon as his fingertips met the bare skin of Newt’s back, Thomas’s whole body began to hum in adrenaline. It was unlike any experience, the feeling of Newt’s soft skin under his fingertips.

Newt’s lips stumbled for a moment, accidentally breaking the kiss. Thomas began to run his hand up Newt’s back, up his spine, and felt him shiver under his touch. The blonde let out a deep, shaky breath that spilled across Thomas’s open lips.

Newt untangled the arm that wasn’t pressed against Thomas’s back out from under the pillow. It snaked under the pillow and slid under Thomas’s body. Newt adjusted himself quickly, halfway laying on his back, and pulled Thomas’s upper half on top of him. Of course Thomas knew about his strength, but it never ceased to surprise him at just how _strong_ Newt was.

Their eyes met for a brief moment, the moonlight spilling in through the window illuminating the scene unfolding on Thomas’s bed. Newt stared up at him lovingly, pupils blown and lips parted. Thomas felt Newt’s chest heaving under him, before the feeling of long fingers slid through the hair on the back of his head. The feeling in Thomas’s heart, how heavy it hung in his chest, left him speechless.

Newt held him for a moment, eyes locked onto his. His gaze never wavered - never wandered. His eyes held onto Thomas’s, as if trying to speak to him without using his words. He looked up at him as if there were a million things he wanted to say, but he would never know where to begin.

Thomas spoke for him.

_“I love you.”_

Newt’s fingers tightened in Thomas’s hair, eyes flickering back and forth between his, and pulled him desperately back down to his lips. His mouth opened for him, waiting and wanting, and Thomas gave him everything he had.

Newt’s tongue had somehow found his in their collision, and they began to briefly meet in between kisses. The heat running down Thomas’s spine left his mind hazy, and he felt Newt’s hand shaking against his back.

Thomas extracted his hand, which was pinned between Newt’s back and the mattress, and placed it down on the mattress next to Newt’s waist. Newt, unhappy with that, decided to place Thomas’s hand where he really wanted it.

Newt grabbed his hand, pulling it down and under his shirt. Thomas gasped at the warm, bare skin at Newt’s chest. He didn’t hesitate before mapping out every inch of the blonde’s chest, sliding his fingertips over every inch of his warm, soft skin.

Thomas traced over his lean muscles, slid his fingers over Newt’s waist, and trailed up the side of his ribcage. He wondered how he had gone so long without touching Newt this way, without feeling the warmth that his skin emitted. It left Thomas speechless just how perfect Newt was, in every single way. He never wanted to take his hands off of him - never wanted to be separated from him again.

As Newt’s tongues briefly curled against his, hot and slick, he grabbed Thomas’s hand. It had been currently sliding over his ribcage, adoring it's time there, until Newt pulled it lower and hastily placed it on his lower abdomen. A shiver ran down Thomas’s spine.

They parted for a split second, Thomas pulling away. Newt looked up at him curiously, impatiently. His pupils were still blown, cheeks and lips flushed red, and he was definitely a sight to see.

Thomas’s heart beat erratically in his chest as he stared down at the man he loved. He knew what Newt wanted him to do, and so he did. His fingertips pushed past the waistband of Newt’s shorts - _his shorts -_ and his briefs. Newt’s mouth dropped open in a gasp as Thomas wrapped his fingers around Newt.

Newt yanked Thomas down for another kiss, his back squirming under him.

It was extreme deja vu from Thomas’s wet dream back in The Scorch. Somehow, his dream had been correct about a few things. Newt _was_ an inch longer than him. That much was easy to tell as he stroked upward, Newt’s gasps spilling against his mouth. He was just a bit smaller in width than Thomas, but not much at all. He was warm, soft, and heavy in his hand.

This feeling wasn’t unfamiliar, obviously. He had done this to himself plenty of times. It was strange how familiar, but also how _foreign_ it was at the same time. He could immediately tell that this wasn’t _his_ cock in his hands, but he knew exactly what to do. He knew exactly how to have Newt squirming under him, gasping into his mouth as his hands gripped onto his back and hair pathetically.

 _“Fuck,”_ Newt whimpered breathlessly into Thomas’s mouth. “You’re _so-”_

Fuck, this was amazing. Newt was so sexy, so _manly,_ and he was coming undone under him. The feeling of Newt, heavy and warm in his hand, was almost too much to handle. It left a fire in his stomach, and a shiver down his spine. It left him almost _drooling._

He wasn’t mentally prepared for Newt’s warm hand to trail down his back, and under his shirt. He wasn’t prepared for Newt to push past his own shorts, his own briefs, and hastily wrap his fingers around Thomas.

Thomas gasped into the blonde’s mouth, his whole body erupting in goosebumps. His hand froze on Newt, as Newt began to move his. He stroked Thomas slowly, almost _teasingly,_ and Thomas’s knees shook. As Thomas lost his sanity, Newt began kissing him even more passionate than before. He happily swallowed all of Thomas’s gasps.

Okay, now _that_ was a foreign feeling. Feeling pleasure, when he wasn’t touching himself, left his mind reeling. Newt knew exactly what to do to him, just as Thomas did to him, and it left Thomas dizzy in the head.

Thomas suddenly realized, through the haze of pleasure, that his hand was still frozen on Newt. He began moving his hand once more, matching the pace that Newt set on him.

Voices rang loudly right outside of the shack door, breaking Thomas’s trance. His hand quickly unwrapped from Newt, and he pulled away slightly. He felt cold at the loss of Newt’s hand on him as Newt pulled away as well. They froze for a moment, still under the blanket together, eyes on one another.

The voices passed after a few moments, though, and Thomas groaned in annoyance. He collapsed onto Newt’s strong chest, and earned a small laugh from the blonde.

Why were they always getting interrupted?

Thomas wrapped an arm around Newt’s middle, his head laying on his warm chest. He felt one of Newt’s strong arms wrap around his waist as well, getting comfortable under him. Newt’s head then fell on top of his, nuzzling into his hair. They lay there silently for a moment, legs tangled together, and Thomas able to hear and feel the racing of Newt’s heart under his ear. It was beating even faster than his.

After a few minutes of laying there peacefully, Newt finally spoke up.

“It was so hard staying away from you,” Newt muttered against his hair. Thomas tightened his arm around Newt’s waist. “I don’t ever want to do that again.”

“So don’t.”

 

-

 

It was a week after Newt had arrived, and everything was different. Thomas, Minho, Gally, and Frypan finally had their best friend back. In a normal setting, that is. Without the constant fear of not surviving The Scorch. It was almost surreal, waking up next to Newt and knowing he was _here._ He was alive, and _here._ It almost brought Thomas to tears every morning - waking up and seeing Newt asleep on the bed next to him, face smushed by the pillow. He waited every night until Newt fell asleep before falling asleep himself - terrified that one day the blonde would just...disappear once more.

The two were stronger than ever. They were able to finally be relaxed and just… _be._ It was such a mind blowing experience for Thomas, being able to have breakfast, lunch, and dinner with his best friend again. In some ways, it was as if Newt had never left.

Of course, despite the fact that he still didn’t call him Tommy. He still hadn’t regained his memory, and Thomas tried to find the positive in each day to distract himself from that fact.  

The two also weren’t able to be very intimate after the first night in Thomas’s bed. The very next day, Newt was thrown into training to become a soldier, as well as learning the ropes of the Safe Haven. It was a hectic first week, and Thomas was extremely sleepy the whole time, his blood supply running ridiculously thin.

Thomas was salty that they hadn't even kissed again since that first night. Newt was usually being stolen away by the soldiers, and Thomas was busy doing his part by giving his blood. Their schedules for the first week didn’t match up at all besides their meals.

Minho had told a few soldiers in the Safe Haven that Newt was an excellent shot. The soldiers were the ones who went on supply raids, had night watch, and were always on call if anything happened. They were trained to be ready for any battle with the cranks that arose, despite half of them not even seeing one before.

Minho was a soldier now, as well as Gally, Frypan, and Aris, he had been boasting about Newt as soon as they had arrived.

Because of his excellent shooting, Newt fit in very quickly. It was almost as if he had been a part of the Safe Haven since it had started - for years before Thomas. The rest of the guys were automatically in awe at his shooting abilities, and were intrigued to hear about the things that he had been able to do out in The Scorch. They wanted to hear about his stories, even though they didn’t know that he couldn’t remember much at all. They were talking to him constantly - always asking if he wanted to attend their supply raids.

Thomas was insanely jealous. There were a lot of good looking soldiers, and they _loved_ Newt. They would never leave Newt alone - even stealing his attention away at almost every meal. Thomas was feeling suffocated by the constant attention from everyone else, and it wasn’t even directed at him anymore.

Newt, of course, didn’t show any sign of interest to any of those men. That did not help deter Thomas’s jealousy, though.

 _Especially_ not when it came to Aviel. Aviel was way too much. He was _always_ speaking to Newt. Aviel was always asking Newt to attend raids, and practically begged him to do so with puppy dog eyes. He always seemed to find Newt at every meal, and had even settled himself between Thomas and Newt a couple of times in order to talk to him.

His back was always to Thomas, too. And Newt was too kind to speak up about it after the first few failed attempts at trying to get him to be more respectful.

Thomas hated that he couldn’t attend raids with them due to his constant low energy from extracting his blood. It caused him to sit around and mope for hours while he waited for Newt and the soldiers to return. He also moped about the fact that he knew Aviel was talking to him consistently throughout each raid.

Newt never showed any interest in the guy at all. He even had rolled his eyes at Thomas from behind Aviel’s back countless times. Newt was too kind of a person to say anything to Aviel, of course, especially since he was the newcomer.

Aviel was a good looking guy - more muscular than Thomas and much taller. He had light floppy hair, a great smile, piercing eyes, and Thomas hated him _immediately._ He assumed that he was overreacting - being jealous for no reason - until Aris pulled him aside last night after dinner. While Newt was trying to escape Aviel’s conversation, of course.

“Aviel has been talking about Newt a bit too much, man. Might want to make it clear to him.”

To say that Thomas’s blood boiled was an understatement.

 

-

 

The next morning, Thomas was laying in bed as he watched Newt pull on his dirty old boots. The boys were getting ready for their mission of the day, and he could see Minho, Fry, Gally, and Aris getting ready on the other side of the room as well. They were laughing and joking, despite the rest of the boys in the shack attempting to get more rest.

Newt was sitting up on his bed across from Thomas, facing him but bent over as he laced up his boots. He was talking low to Thomas, respecting the rest of the sleeping boys around him, but also knowing that Thomas was still half asleep. Newt always spoke to him in the mornings, even though Thomas was half asleep. He knew that he would be gone all day, and wanted to speak to Thomas the small amount that he was able to before he left.

And also because “I miss you, you fucking wanker.”

“We are supposed to go up near the mountains today,” Newt said, yawning lazily at the end of his sentence. He tightened the last lace, tied the knot, and sighed. He straightened up his back, pulling his arms up above his head to stretch as he looked back up at Thomas. He smiled lazily at him, and Thomas was transfixed. And so in love. “Last time we went, it was beautiful. You would have loved it.”

“I want to go,” Thomas admitted, sighing sadly. Newt dropped his arms, and began stretching his shoulders. He suddenly looked very thoughtful, eyes narrowed and beautiful lips pouting slightly.

“Why don’t -”

The door of their shack opened with a bang. Newt turned around, glancing over his shoulder. Thomas immediately frowned at the tall boy grinning widely in the doorway.

Aviel wasn’t looking at the rest of the boys - even though they stood much closer to him than Newt did. He didn’t acknowledge the other boys attempting to sleep on their beds. He stared all the way across the room at Newt, his nice smile lighting up the room. He looked at Newt as if he was the only one he could see. He began walking briskly over toward him and Thomas, as if he had the most amazing secret that he couldn’t wait to share.

Thomas’s blood boiled. It must have shown on his face, because he heard the rest of the boys snickering across the room. Even the boys who were attempting to rest. He ignored them, hairs on end and a bad taste in his mouth.

“Ready to go, Newt?” Aviel asked, voice deep and chirpy. His eyes gleamed down at him, who glanced back up at him lazily. The excitement wasn’t even half way returned, and Thomas was slightly relieved.

“Yeah, we’re ready to go too, Aviel!” Gally called out teasingly. Aviel didn’t seem to hear him, eyes still only on Newt as he waited impatiently for a response. Newt, though, glanced around Aviel to scowl at Gally. Thomas did the same. Gally shrugged, smirking. He loved poking fun at the awkward tension.

Thomas was so thankful that Aviel didn’t stay in this damn cabin. He was sure he would have strangled the boy by now.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” Newt muttered, head turning back to look at Thomas. He gave him a half smile, obviously unhappy that they had to part ways again. Because he “bloody fucking missed your cute face.” Newt rose, his knees cracking like an old man’s. Like Minho’s signature knee cracks. He turned towards the door, and Aviel took a step closer to him, smile _still_ wide as he stared down at Newt. Newt ignored him, body facing the boys’ across the room.

“Are you guys-” Newt was interrupted by a desperate Thomas. Thomas didn’t realize that he had spoken until he heard his own voice.

“You’re not going to kiss me goodbye?” Thomas blurted out, unable to help himself. The close proximity of Newt and Aviel had driven his mind to ruins. He didn’t want _anyone_ looking at Newt like that, let alone standing that close to him as well.

Thomas was embarrassed that he said this in front of the boys still relaxing on their beds, but didn’t regret it. He ignored their staring, even though he could _feel_ it.

Newt’s back froze. Aviel laughed loudly next to him, assuming it was a joke. He turned to look back at Thomas, his smile a bit too wide to be kind. He looked angry, but attempted to hide it as best as he could.

The boys’ on the other side stayed quiet.

Fear struck Thomas. Newt had frozen at the words, but he _hadn’t moved._

Thomas hadn’t considered the fact that Newt may not want to disclose anything about them. He didn’t even know if Newt wanted people to know that he liked men. Thomas hadn’t even considered the fact that maybe Newt had _changed his mind._ He hadn’t kissed him in the past week. Of course they had been extremely busy, but they hadn’t even had time to talk about what had happened the other day.

If Newt ignored him, it would break his heart. Of course, Aviel and the boys resting thought it was a joke, but the boys’ who knew it _wasn’t_ a joke were witnessing this as well. They would never forget the rejection, and Thomas knew he wouldn’t be able to look them in the eyes for a long time.

Before Thomas could beat himself up more, though, Newt moved.

Newt turned, eyes locking onto Thomas. The look on his face surprised Thomas - teasing and happy. He didn’t seem to be upset about the fact that he put him on the spot. He technically even outed him. Instead, Newt looked more surprised at his outburst. But as always, he seemed to know _exactly_ why he had done it. He seemed to _know_ that Thomas needed a kiss in this moment because he was insanely jealous.

Newt, blonde hair gleaming in the sunlight pouring through the window, closed the distance with a few small steps. He bent over, chocolate eyes gleaming at him. His eyes seemed to smile more than his lips as he reached out to cup Thomas’s face. Newt’s eyes fluttered shut, and Thomas followed his lead.

Those long, warm fingers put Thomas in a trance as Newt leaned forward, gently placing a kiss on Thomas’s lips.

It was just a peck, but slow and gentle. The contact that Thomas had been craving was better than he remembered. A heat rushed deep into his bones, leaving his mind disoriented. Newt’s strong hands cupping his face left shivers running up and down his spine.

Newt took his time giving Thomas a sweet kiss, uncaring about their audience at all. Uncaring that a bunch of boys who hadn’t known about their affection were watching.

“Jesus Christ,” Gally groaned somewhere in the distance. Thomas heard Frypan snickering, and Minho let out a bark of a laugh. Aris muttered something that Thomas couldn’t catch. The rest of the boys in the cabin stayed silent.

“No need to be jealous,” Newt whispered against his lips, warm breath spilling across them, and speaking just loudly for only Thomas to hear. Vanilla engulfed Thomas, and left his legs weak. He smacked Newt’s arm, earning a laugh from the blonde. Newt pulled back, hands dropping from Thomas, and a teasing smile on his face. The smile made Thomas’s heart flip in his chest, despite the annoying situation.

Newt thought Thomas’s jealousy was adorable.

Of course he did.

Thomas glanced behind Newt at Aviel. His smile was completely gone. Thomas had never seen him look so unhappy before. The man was always smiling, but now his face was twisted in what looked like disgust.

At the sight, Thomas couldn’t control his smile. He glanced up at Newt, feeling triumphant. Newt was staring down at him with a pondering expression, though. His eyebrows were furrowed once more.

“Come with us,” Newt said, standing straight as he stared down at Thomas. Thomas’s eyebrows raised up at him, shocked. Go with them? As much as he wanted to, he had a job here. He had to give blood.

“But Teresa-”

“Fuck Teresa,” Newt muttered, shaking his head. He suddenly smiled, a soft and gentle smile, and he ran a big hand through his blonde hair. “You’ve been working too hard. Come with me.”

“He would need to go through Rafael first-” Aviel tried to cut in, his voice unhappy. Minho scoffed behind them, cutting him off.

“Oh shut up, Aviel.”

The room quieted. Thomas glanced behind Aviel and Newt, shocked. Minho looked annoyed. He stared back at Thomas, raising an eyebrow. His best friend was so fucking _sassy._

“He saved all of you from WCKD. He saved a psycho lady from killing you all and experimenting on you. Thomas can do whatever the fuck he wants,” Frypan said, his voice even and calm despite the direct words. He smiled at Thomas before grabbing his bag off of his bed, slinging it over his broad shoulders. Thomas couldn’t help but smile back at his best friend, thankful for his defense.

“It doesn’t matter what he’s done,” Aviel snapped, all traces of his ‘nice guy’ persona gone. He was glaring at Thomas as he spoke, even though Frypan was behind him. Everyone in the room seemed to freeze - seemed to stop breathing. “Rafael never liked him. He wouldn’t let him go.”

There was a long stretch of silence. No one had expected Aviel to lash out the way he had. Thomas, furious from his words, stood. Newt turned his head to stare back at him as he did so, but Thomas’s eyes were locked on the boy behind him. He felt Newt’s eyes boring holes into his head as he stared Aviel down. He felt everyone’s eyes on him, waiting for his response.

“You know my name, Aviel,” Thomas snapped. He smirked sarcastically. “If you’re looking at me, you better fucking address me.”

How dramatic of a thing to do in front of a bunch of random boys in the room with them. Who were trying to sleep, for God’s sake. Thomas tried to ignore their staring as much as he could.

Aviel took a threatening step forward, face enraged. Before anyone else could react from the threat, though, Newt slid himself between the two boys’. Newt’s back was to Thomas, but he could see the blonde’s hands raised up to stop Aviel.

“You don’t want to do that, mate,” Newt said, laughing a tight laugh. It sounded threatening, but Aviel didn’t seem to catch it. His eyes were still locked threateningly on Thomas over Newt’s shoulder. His light eyes were piercing into his, a challenge obvious in them.

“I’m not scared of him,” Aviel laughed, shaking his head. Gally, Fry, Minho, and Aris had all closed the distance of the room - taking their stance behind Aviel. They looked more amused than anything - knowing that Aviel was completely outnumbered. He had no chance if he tried anything against Thomas, and they all knew it.

“Oh, he can take care of himself,” Newt said, that sarcastic tone still in his voice. Although he attempted to appear nonchalant, Thomas could see how tense the blonde’s back was. “It’s me you should be worried about.”

The boys behind Aviel snickered. Aviel took no notice.

Thomas’s heart hammered in his chest. Newt clarifying that Thomas could, in fact, take care of himself, left him feeling more empowered than before. The fact that Newt was also sticking up for him despite knowing he could, made him speechless. Even _this_ Newt would do anything for him, and vouch for him.

“You fight his battles for him?” Aviel snapped, staring down at Newt with rage in his eyes. Thomas took a step forward, not liking the look that he was giving him. Newt could protect Thomas all he wanted, but he would also do the same for him. “That’s adorable.”

Newt shrugged, his nonchalant attitude still on display. “I’m just warning you. If you hurt him, you’ll lose. He’ll win. And then, I’ll be right behind him, waiting to get to you next. And I don’t think you’d like to feel how hard I’d beat your ass if you laid a finger on him.”

Thomas’s heart _soared._

“And me too,” Minho laughed behind Aviel, eyes boring a hole in the back of Aviel’s head. His tone was teasing, but defensive. “If Rafael doesn’t let him go on raids, I won’t go either. And we both know that almost everyone in this room, _besides you,_ has the most experience outside. We weren’t sheltered in here, living comfortably with a gold fucking spoon in our mouth. We’ve seen shit. Our friends have died. We know how it is out there, and you never will.”

“And I don’t think Rafael would like to lose all of us,” Frypan added, standing tall next to Minho. His back was straight, and his eyes were also boring into the back of Aviel’s blonde head. The rest of the boys nodded, agreeing with Fry’s statement. Despite being ganged up on, Aviel didn’t turn his head to look back at anyone - his eyes still locked threateningly on Thomas.

“I wouldn’t go either,” Gally agreed, crossing his arms over his strong chest. He still look entertained at the scene unfolding in front of him. “And I would beat your ass too, if you touched any of my boys.”

_My boys._

“Same here,” Aris muttered, shaking his head teasingly. He had on a small smirk, and ran a hand through his sandy hair. Thomas couldn’t help but notice how much shorter he was than everyone, and yet he looked the most frightening at how easygoing he looked. The other three had on their defensive stances, despite Gally also looking entertained, with their fists clenched and their backs straight. “And that would be a whole lot of beatings, man. Better luck trying someone else.”

Thomas had never felt more speechless in his life. All of these boys in this room, besides Aviel and the random boys of course, were his family. They truly were. There was no doubt about it. Even Aris, who he had met not too long ago. They loved him. They cared about him - had his back no matter what.

He hadn’t thought about them standing up for him in petty and unimportant situations like this. They had stood up for him in battle, of course, and did anything to protect him, but this was an entirely different situation. Still️️, they didn’t let him down. They didn’t stop standing up for him, and making sure he was _happy,_ and not just safe from danger.

Thomas swore that if he thought too much about what was going on, he would cry. The overwhelming feeling of love was intense and powerful.

Aviel, without a word and knowing he had lost, spun on his heel and pushed past the rest of the boys. Almost as if the instance never happened at all, everyone dispersed and began chatting again. Only Newt remained, his eyes still locked on Thomas. As soon as he turned, and those chocolate eyes met his, Thomas couldn’t hold back his smile any longer.

“Get dressed, greenie,” Gally said, beaming at him from across the room as he slung his own backpack over his shoulders. “Let’s go.”

As Thomas smiled, happier and more loved than he could ever remember being, Newt leaned forward to give him another quick kiss.

The look on Aviel’s face earlier was not half as satisfying as kissing Newt again.

Thomas quickly apologized to the now fully awake boys that were still trying to rest before ducking out of the cabin with pink cheeks.

 

-

 

The raid went well. _Very_ well. Thomas loved going out and exploring, missing the outside, but especially enjoying it with his friends. It was an amazing experience, and he was so glad that they convinced him to go. He was also so glad that Aviel stayed clear of them the whole time, refusing to acknowledge them. Newt teased him a bit about Aviel, but didn’t seem upset at all. He still didn’t seem to mind that more people knew about them.

Even though Thomas still wasn’t sure what they were.

Newt had even pressed his forehead against his, in front of everyone, for a brief moment as they trekked near the mountains. Despite the teasing, he seemed to want to assure Thomas that what they had was special. No matter how cute Thomas’s jealousy was to him, he wanted him to feel safe and secure on what they had.

“You know that no one can take your place, yeah?”

 

-

 

Newt, later that night, told him that he should start going on more raids with them. So...Thomas did. He began going on raids with them almost every time they left. And, well...he really enjoyed it. He enjoyed being back outside and _doing_ something besides sitting around and being lazy from blood loss. These raids helped the whole Safe Haven as well, too. It was a win win. It also helped that he was with Newt a lot of the time, now. They spent more time together than they had in the week since Newt had arrived.

Of course, Rafael wasn’t happy about Thomas not giving blood as frequently, but Thomas couldn’t care less.

 

-

 

A week passed, and Thomas and Newt were inseparable. They only shared brief kisses here and there, and nothing more. They were building up their friendship once more, and they both knew that that was much more important than trying to start anything physical. They wanted to bond in ways much deeper than physical contact. They were both very busy with helping around the Safe Haven as well, and still didn’t get much alone time in.

Every time they tried to take a small walk alone, there was always someone walking around as well. Whenever they tried to escape back to the room to be alone, someone always showed up within minutes of them going in. It seemed as if the universe wanted them to focus only on getting to know each other once more, and neither boy pushed it.

They had all the time in the world now.

 

-

 

On one of their raids that week, Newt’s voice cut off suddenly. He had been talking to Thomas about some petty drama that was going on in the Safe Haven as he was helping to build a shack for a new family. There were a lot of gossipers in the builders team, and Newt thought it was hilarious. He and Thomas took hours talking, but they never seemed to run out of things to talk about. And Thomas loved that.

Thomas turned at Newt’s interruption, eyebrows raised. As soon as he caught sight of Newt, though, he realized that Newt’s attention was now elsewhere entirely. His whole body had stilled, and his mouth was still parted from the words that he had been speaking. Those chocolate eyes had a very far away look to them, as if they were suddenly in another world.

There, sitting between the shelves in the abandoned grocery store that they had stumbled upon, was a bear shaped container full of honey.

The way that Newt was staring at it made Thomas’s stomach clench. It felt as if a vacuum had sucked all the air out of his lungs, and his heartbeat rang loudly in his ears.

Newt, slowly and gingerly, reached forward. His long fingers hesitantly reached out, wrapping around the small bear before pulling it off the shelf. He pulled it close, staring down at the bear with a blank stare.

 

_"Look at that," Newt said in awe. He had glanced over Thomas's shoulder and had noticed the cans of peaches and the little plastic bear that held honey in it. "Check the expiration date, yeah?"_

 

Thomas’s head begun swimming with memories of that day. Of how much that day meant to him. Newt continued to stare down at the honey jar as Minho passed them, patting Thomas on the shoulder. He hadn’t seen the way that Newt had completely checked out of reality for a moment. He passed them and walked down the next aisle, talking loudly to Gally across the store.

“Rafael said to find-”

 

_Newt was so tipsy that he was hogging one of the bear shaped honey containers, tilting his head back and squeezing the contents straight into his mouth._

 

As Thomas stood there, transfixed by the sight himself, he remembered the rest of the night they had spent together. He remembered them sharing the blanket that they had found with the honey and peaches.

“Well, tell him that we looked everywhere!” Gally called back, laughing his signature laugh. Thomas loved to hear it after all the shit they’ve been through. “If he wants to find it so badly, he should get off his ass and-”

 

 _Newt breathed a laugh again. Thomas flinched in surprise at a sudden touch to his arm. Warm fingers pressed against his forearm. Thomas’s eyes fluttered closed. He heard Newt shift on the sleeping bag next to him._  
  
_His breath, much closer than it had been the moment previously, was fanning across his neck now._  
  
_“I can’t smell you,” Newt admitted, his voice still slow and deeper than normal, although still shaky from the liquor. His warm breath caused a shiver to run down Thomas’s spine. “You’re too far away. Do you smell good?”_  
  
_“I doubt it. Won’t Minho get jealous that you’re not cuddling with him instead?” Thomas asked, trying to divert his attention away from the roughness of Newt’s voice. His eyes were still closed, but he didn’t have to open them to see that Newt was way too close._  
  
_“He already knows that you’re my favorite person,” Newt explained, as if he didn’t steal Thomas’s heart and breath at the statement. His heart swelled and pressure filled his chest._

 

Newt, next to him, continued to stare down at the bear shaped container with a blank expression. The only indication that his mind was racing was the shaking of his hands.

  
  
  


**the next day**

**5:34 AM**

 

“Be safe for me,” Newt had muttered in Thomas’s ear the morning that Thomas left. Thomas had smiled back at him as Rafael called his name near the trucks. Everyone was now waiting for him.

“Always.”

Rafael had asked for a few men to go looking for a hoard that one of their watchmen had caught sight of last night. They had seemed to be moving away from the Safe Haven, but he still wanted to locate them. Rafael was always extremely cautious about the cranks, especially since he had only encountered a few himself.

Rafael was a shit leader, and Thomas knew it. It turned out that _everyone_ knew it. He heard all of the soldiers talking about him late at night. He had no experience of the outside world, and didn’t plan on learning anything. He didn’t want to prepare himself of his soldiers. Thomas knew that Rafael needed people who actually knew how to handle cranks on this mission, and so he had volunteered.

Thomas had also volunteered to go in order to start helping out the Safe Haven more, just as he promised he would. It also gave Newt time to catch up with his friends, and meet new people at the Safe Haven. Thomas had been hogging the blonde to himself, and he knew it. He wanted to give Newt a bit of space to enjoy himself.

So Thomas left. Thomas left thinking that since everyone was in the Safe Haven, they would be safe. Thomas left assuming _he_ would be the one in the most danger.

He had no idea how wrong he was.

  
  


**9:21 PM**

 

Thomas sat upright in his sleeping bag. He had been on the edge of sleep after a long day of searching, when the biggest feeling of dread dropped into his stomach. Aris, who was half asleep next to him, turned in his sleeping bag to look up at him with narrowed eyes.

“Thomas?” Aris asked, eyebrows furrowing. “What’s wrong?”

Thomas shot out of his sleeping bag, quickly pulling on his jeans and his boots. His hands shook, and his mind began racing. The cold air had no effect on his bare skin.

“Thomas?” Aris asked once more, sitting up. He looked scared at Thomas’s hasty actions. “What’s going on?”

“We have to go back,” Thomas demanded, pulling on his left boot. He began quickly rolling up his sleeping bag, hands still shaking intensely. The rest of the soldiers were slowly waking up - concerned at how loud he was being. They began sitting up, glancing around in confusion.

They were a full day away from home, and Thomas had never felt so helpless. The feeling of dread in his stomach kept worsening, his head aching miserably. Something was terribly wrong.

Thomas couldn’t help the way his body shook - the way his mind reeled and left him almost on the verge of tears.

He couldn’t lose Newt again.

He couldn’t lose Minho again. He couldn’t lose anyone. Not even fucking Teresa.

Frypan was barely waking up as well, looking around Aris and at Thomas. As soon as he saw Thomas’s panic, though, he began dressing and packing as well. He trusted Thomas with his life. When Thomas was stressing out, they all should be. Fry knew that.

“What do you -” Aris spoke up again, confused, before Rafael quickly interrupted him.

“We aren’t going anywhere,” Rafael muttered, rolling his eyes. He had been sitting upright, on watch, on Thomas’s left side. His back was against one of the jeeps, and he was staring up at Thomas lazily, his dark eyes flashing in the firelight. He raised a hand to rub his beard. “We’re waiting until-”

“We’re going,” Thomas interrupted him, spinning on his heel. He stared down at Rafael with such intensity that Rafael stopped speaking immediately. The rest of the men watched in shock as Thomas overtook their leader with those simple two words. Aviel sat up quickly, eyes narrowing at Thomas across the fire. “With or without you, Rafael.”

Rafael opened his mouth to speak, face twisted in rage, but Thomas cut him off once more. He ran up on the older man, slamming his hand against his throat. Rafael was now pinned against the jeep behind him. Gasps rang out around them as Thomas’s fingers closed tightly around Rafael’s throat. Thomas heard a few people get up, moving towards them quickly.

Rafael stared up at him in shock, eyes wide and scared.

If something happened to Newt again, he wouldn’t ever recover. He barely recovered the first time. And if Rafael not letting him leave was the reason Newt got hurt, he would kill him. He would actually kill him.

“When these soldiers find out that you kept them here when something is happening at camp, where their families are, they’ll kill you,” Thomas’s face was full of rage and hatred as he spit his next words out. “You owe me.”

Aris, without having to be asked, quickly pulled on his own pants and began packing.

  
  


**9:20 PM**

 

The hoard had broken through the fence. A watchmen had fallen asleep on his watch, and didn’t see them coming. They had ripped him to pieces as they passed him. It was bonfire night, and there was the smell of food hanging in the air around the Safe Haven. So many people were out, with loud laughter and bright fires, and it was easy to see their festivity from afar.

They should have known better after hearing word of a hoard roaming around.

Newt had been sitting with Minho and Gally when they heard the screams. Everyone had frozen in place, music stopping immediately. The fear that washed over them was overwhelming and shocking, and no one seemed to know quite what to do.

Most people in the Safe Haven hadn’t been exposed to cranks before, having been here for as long as The Flare started, and didn't know about life outside. Their life, although fearful, was much more comfortable than the lives of the boys from The Maze. They didn’t seem to know how to act in these situations, and automatically turned to look for help from the people who did.

Minho and Gally began barking orders at people, even though they did not know exactly what was going on. They assumed that it had to do with the hoard that they had caught sight of, but it wasn’t time to wait around and find out. After hearing the screams, it took Minho and Gally only a moment to direct people away from the screaming.

After hearing the screams, it took Newt only a moment to respond. Being the caring and selfless person Newt was, he went to investigate and see who needed help. He didn’t even think twice.

To everyone’s horror, the cranks had first gotten hold of a family home. There were about thirty cranks that broke through the fence, and most of them were swarming the one house.

Of course, Newt wasn’t one of the ones running away. He wasn’t one of the ones who were following Minho and Gally’s direction. He could never run from someone who needed help. That’s just who he is. So instead, recklessly, he ran to grab a gun. He ignored Minho’s protests, and went to help the family as best as he could. With the help of a few other brave people in the Safe Haven, the family survived.

Saving a small child, Newt got bitten.

Multiple times.

He was ripped up, mauled, with big gashes on his arms and legs. The cranks had been digging into him - almost _feasting._ It was a miracle that he had even been able to get away. It was a miracle that Minho was able to get him out of there in time. He had lost conscious from blood loss as Minho dragged him out of harm’s way.

Of course, he would have done it all over again in a heartbeat. He saved a little boy, and he wouldn’t have changed a thing.

As multiple soldiers went to kill the cranks, Minho held the unconscious Newt in his arms. He ran around aimlessly in the chaos to find Teresa.

He caught sight of her standing in the middle of the chaos as people ran in every direction around her. She was standing still, almost as if she was in a trance. The switch inside of her, signaling that she was finally ready to be part of the Safe Haven, seemed to have switched off once more in the chaos filled air.

 _“Teresa!”_ Minho shouted, Gally right on his heels. She didn’t look over. Frustrated, Minho kept shoving his way through the running crowd. It was hard to maneuver himself between all of the people, no matter how hard he tried. _“Teresa!”_

The brunette snapped out of her trance, her head moving toward the direction of Minho’s voice. When she caught sight of the three boys, her eyes widened.

“You need to get him the cure!” Minho shouted, trying to be heard over the screams and shouts as he approached her. She stared at him blankly, as if she wasn’t understanding him. “He was bitten, he needs the cure!”

“He’s fine,” Teresa insisted, her eyes sliding from Minho and down to Newt, who was still unconscious, in his arms. She didn’t seem fazed by the sight in front of her at all, and Minho and Gally glanced at each other incredulously.

“Teresa, where’s the damn cure?!” Gally demanded, stepping into her personal space, getting up into her face. As he towered over her, her eyes snapped from Newt’s body and up to Gally. She still didn’t seem very concerned, even though a strong man was yelling down at her. People continued running in every direction around them, calling out to friends and family.

“He received the cure already. He doesn’t need another vial. Stitches, maybe, but-”

Minho was not happy with that response.

“I don’t care that he already got it! Just be double fucking safe! _I can’t lose him again!”_ Minho yelled helplessly at Teresa, still holding Newt’s unconscious body close against his. His hands were shaking, and Teresa’s eyes fixated on the blood that was seeping from Newt’s wounds and onto Minho’s shirt and arms. _“Let’s go!”_

Teresa finally agreed, knowing that this was a fight she would lose. She quickly turned to lead them to the medic cabin, Gally hot on their heels. They wound around people who were still running around, crying and screaming for their loved ones. They begged for Gally and Minho to help them, knowing that they were knowledgeable soldiers, but they quickly backed away when they saw the state of Newt in Minho’s arms.

As soon as they all filed into the medic shack, Teresa slammed the door behind them and turned on the lights. Minho scrambled to the first hospital bed he saw, laying Newt gently down.

Newt looked _broken,_ blood pouring out of him, and his body limp like a rag doll. Minho couldn’t keep his eyes off of him. He had seen his lifeless body once, and seeing him in this state again caused him to go into shock.

 _“Give him the cure!”_ Gally snapped, desperation in his voice. He was looking around wildly for it, hastily shoving things off of the medic table. He was growing more desperate by the second, voice panicked. Minho stood in the doorway, face pale, and at a loss at what to do as he stared down at Newt on the table. He was still frozen in shock. _“Do it, Teresa!”_

Teresa ran toward the safe in the corner of the room that held the vials, quickly putting in the code with shaking fingers. It was sitting on top of a big shelf, easy access for whoever needed it. She was moving fast, feeling pressured by Gally’s yelling.

As the safe flung open, though, she froze. She stared down at the vials in neat rows below her.

Two different types of vials. One with the cure, and one with something completely different.

She had contemplated using the second vial for months, and now was her chance.

Should she take it?

Teresa’s mind began spinning.

 _“What are you waiting for?!”_ Gally demanded, running towards her. His voice was terrified, and it pierced right through Teresa’s thoughts. _“Grab the fucking cure!”_

Without thinking, Teresa grabbed both vials. One with the cure, and one with the poison. She turned and scurried towards Newt.

As both sank deep into Newt’s chest, Gally and Minho froze in shock. She emptied the vials as Minho lunged forward, yanking the needles out of his best friends chest.

 _“What the fuck did you just do?”_ Minho demanded breathlessly, gaping at Teresa in shock. The two vials that he held shook in his hands. She ignored his question, eyes cast down at Newt as she waited for a reaction.

“Thomas is going to kill you,” Gally breathed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE: I know no one will read this but I’m so sorry for the long lag. My sister is graduating college and we have been moving all of her stuff out. I’ve also been to the beach quite a lot (i can’t swim I’m that little girl raven from the vine) and I’ve been so exhausted. Hopefully it will be up soon! (I know I suck)
> 
>  
> 
> Okay so...wow. 
> 
> I'm so sorry for the lag on this update. I hope how long it was made up for it!  
> Unedited, because would it be a chapter of mine if it was edited?
> 
> Since this chapter took forever, if you all don't mind, I would love to hear about which part was your favorite! I always love speaking to you all, and hearing which parts you enjoyed the most makes my heart hurt.
> 
> I missed you all. Truly. Thank you for being the most amazing readers, supporters, and friends. I know I probably lost half of you because of the late update, but I do care immensely about every single one of you. I constantly think about each one of you every time I write, and even while I'm thinking of ideas and pondering if you will like them. 
> 
> I've had a really rough two weeks. Really fucking rough. So, I would like to hear about the BEST thing that has happened to you guys these past two weeks. I would love to hear about something amazing that has happened, because you all deserve it. Reading your comments, and talking to you all, brightens up every single day of my week. I know I am awful at responding late sometimes because I am so busy, but I do read and love every single comment. It means the absolute world to me.
> 
> I love you all so much. I hope to hear about your amazing past two weeks. I'm sorry again for the lag. 
> 
> It is also 3:40 AM when I'm uploading this :( 
> 
> All my love, forever,  
> amy xxx


	18. like we used to

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> I don't like this chapter, I'm so sorry.
> 
>  
> 
> -

  

 

**Present Day**

 

How long it took for Thomas to get back to the Safe Haven was devastating. What should have been a full day turned into almost three. A sand storm had suddenly breezed through the Scorch, causing any travel to be impossible. They were unable to see more than ten feet in front of them, and were forced to bunker down for a while.

If it wasn’t for Aris and Fry, Thomas would have lost his mind. He was even debating doing the stupid and pointless travel through the sandstorm alone. He was going absolutely crazy, and felt as if he was in a haze from the constant feeling of intense panic and terror. There seemed to be no escaping the terror, and the bad feeling in his stomach seemed to worsen by the second.

The rest of the soldiers listened to him. They didn’t seem to respect Rafael at all anymore, and decided to believe that what Thomas was saying had to be true. They all knew that _Thomas_ had spent time outside of those Safe Haven gates, and Rafael hadn’t. Of course they didn’t trust Thomas all the way, a few even calling him insane, but they listened. They went along with what he said nonetheless.

On the first night that the sandstorm hit, rendering them useless, Aris and Frypan comforted Thomas. They didn’t seem to know what to say about his bad feeling, but they _did_ know what to say to comfort him about their friends.

As they sat in the jeep, the windows outside dark from the storm, Frypan began patting his back as Thomas had another panic attack. They had been consistently bad, his whole body seizing up and his vision going cloudy. It felt as if his heart was running a marathon in his chest, and he was unable to help the steady flow of tears that streamed down his face.

Unfortunately, Fry had witnessed these countless times. When Thomas thought that Newt was dead, this was a regular for him. This _useless_ feeling that Thomas now felt due to the storm, though, was overwhelming. A storm had done this to him before, and he had almost lost his mind then, too, worrying over Newt.

This time, though, it wasn’t only Newt. It Minho, Gally, Brenda, Sonya, Harriet, Vince, Teresa, Jorge. It was all of the innocent people in the Safe Haven. Thomas had no idea what to expect when they got back.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Fry admitted as he patted Thomas’s back in the darkness. Aris sat in front of Thomas, and Fry on his left. Aris stared at him with worry, but Frypan tried to keep his face as normal as possible despite his own worries. “But you need to remember that our people are tough, Thomas. Newt and Gally came back from the dead, Minho was saved from WCKD, and we all survived out here. We survived the battle of WCKD. Whatever is happening out there, they will be fine. Everything will be okay.”

Thomas didn’t speak. His knees were up to his chest, and he held on tightly around them. There was a small buzzing in his ears, and Fry’s words seemed to come out of a fishbowl.

He wanted to speak. He _wanted to_ . He wanted to tell Fry thank you. He wanted to say that he was right. He wanted to do _something_.

“Newt’s good,” Aris said, backing up Fry. Thomas didn’t catch the glance that Aris shot Fry. “He’s going to be fine. That guy is awesome out in crank land, he will be even better in the Safe Haven. You know that, Thomas. He can kick ass more than I can. He’s saved my ass so many times. You’re in love with the guy for fuck’s sake. You know he can take care of himself. He’s got this, whatever’s happening, he’s got this.”

He could take care of himself.

He could he could he could.

So why did Thomas feel this way?

“Gally and Minho aren’t going to let anything happen. They won’t let us down, Thomas. We will get there, and everyone will be alive. I promise you. Everything’s going to be okay.”

 

-

 

Thomas didn’t speak until the moment he arrived back at the Safe Haven. He couldn’t speak. Words failed him, and his throat failed him. He felt as if he was a clogged drain, unusable and overworked. He was exhausted.

When they pulled up to the Safe Haven, everything seemed fine. It all seemed so normal that Thomas felt paralyzed with shock. His heart leapt to his throat, and he felt multiple stares on him as the rest of the jeeps stopped alongside theirs. He knew they were judging and angry. They had believed in him, but everything appeared normal at first glance.

Had he been wrong? Had he just missed Newt’s presence and confused it with something happening?

No, no something had to have happened. Something wasn’t right.

“I don’t see Minho,” Frypan commented, his voice strained. He sat up taller to glance through the windshield. He was right. Minho always greeted the jeeps as they arrived back at camp, especially if they had been gone a while. “Newt should be here too, since you’ve been gone so long, he should be-”

Fry didn’t finish his sentence. Before Thomas could let another wave of panic consume him, Minho rounded the corner. He looked a bit startled, and exhausted, but not heartbroken. He waved at the Jeep, walking straight over to the one that had Thomas inside. His eyes were glued on him through the windshield.

Something definitely happened. He was right. Minho’s hesitation said it all.

Thomas pushed past the rest of the boys, stopping them from exiting first, and quickly jumped out of the Jeep. Minho closed the distance before he could, a strained smile on his face. Thomas froze in place, terrified of what he would hear.

“Did anyone die?” Thomas demanded, his voice small but determined.

“Not ours,” Minho quickly shook his head, and relief spread through Thomas. The voices of the soldiers behind them, shocked that Thomas had been right after all, all spoke up at once.

Minho, jaw clenched, raised a hand to silence the soldiers. The other Jeep unloaded, the rest of the soldiers walking up to Minho, and they all swarmed around him. Aris and Frypan stood on either side of him.

Thomas was impatient as they waited, his heart pounding away in his chest.

“The hoard got through the gate,” Minho said loudly, his voice shaky but determined. The silence that rang through the group was deafening. “Carlos fell asleep on watch, and was eaten. The rest came through and got into camp.”

“Carlos,” one of his friends whispered, his head falling low. Heartbreak spread across his face, and Thomas _felt_ it. He could understand that. “Poor bastard.”

“He was the only one killed. There were lots of stitches, and a few broken bones. A few also got bitten, but the cure saved all of them. Thanks to Thomas.”

No one spoke up, although all heads turned toward the brunette. He felt eyes boring holes into him from all sides, but his gaze remained set on Minho.

“A lot of the houses are torn apart. I suggest you go find your loved ones and get on the damage.”

The soldiers quickly dispersed, not having to be asked twice. Almost all of them patted Thomas on the back as they passed, even Fry and Aris, with worried but grateful expressions on their faces. No one spoke, as words most likely failed them.

Aviel was the only one to stay away from Thomas. He didn’t speak to anyone as he walked off towards the houses. His face was set in stone.

Minho stayed quiet as everyone dispersed. He watched the soldiers leave, his jaw still clenched. Thomas stood in place, his heartbeat ringing in his ears. His legs shook as he opened his mouth to speak, but Minho interrupted him.

“He’s alive.”

Thomas’s heart didn’t stop it’s annoying hammering. The look on Minho’s face told it all. He was alive, but something wasn’t right. Something _had_ happened.

Minho sighed, tilting his head slightly as he looked at Thomas. His arms crossed over his wide chest and smiled down at him - tired but reassuring.

“He got bitten. He was helping people escape a house, and they tore into him. He needed stitches, and I forced Teresa to give him the cure again. He’s fine, but they had to give him blood and put him on pain medication since his wounds are pretty bad. He’s pretty out of it, high on the medicine, but he’s going to recover just fine. He will be back to normal soon.”

The more Minho spoke, the more Thomas’s heart became deafening in his ears. His palms began to sweat, and his knees wobbled under his weight. He tried to remain positive, since Minho obviously was assuring him that Newt would be okay - that he would recover just fine. But Newt was _hurting._ He was hurting and Thomas couldn’t do anything to stop it.

Newt had always been his right hand man. His partner in crime. They had always had each other’s back through everything. If one of them hurt, the other hurt as well.

Whenever a decision had to be made, whenever a problem arose, Thomas knew that he could look for Newt and find that the boy was already looking right back at him - ready to support him no matter what. He always had his eyes on Thomas.

As Minho began walking, Thomas following him helplessly, he spoke once more. “He looks in really bad shape. You aren’t going to want to look. I promise he will be okay, though, Thomas. Keep a level head for him.”

Thomas told himself that when he saw him, he _would_ be brave. He would put his feelings aside and just _be there_ for the man he loved. He wouldn’t let his emotions get the best of him.

Nothing prepared Thomas for what he saw, though. Newt - sitting in the sun on a big chair outside of the small hospital. He was basking in the sun, head tilted back, as if he was seeing the sunlight for the first time in days.

He was ripped up. There were stitches riding up his arms - multiple lines of them. They also ran down his legs, which Thomas could see under his shorts. There were also bites littered everywhere - even one on the side of his neck. They were purple and black, as if they were attempting to poison him from the inside out.

To say that Thomas felt in control of his body was comical. He had never felt so helpless in his life. Without thinking he began backpedaling, his feet desperate to take him away from the situation. As he turned a corner, Newt out of sight, he felt his back slam against a wall of one of the homes.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Minho got in his face. Thomas was shocked as his best friend grabbed onto his shirt roughly, balling the material into his fist. He stared down at Thomas, rage and heartbreak clear on his face. His hand shook at Thomas’s chest.

“It’s not time to lose yourself again, Thomas. I won’t allow it.” His dark eyes pierced into his - unwavering. “He needs you right now. More than ever. Don’t let him down.”

After a few moments, Thomas nodded. He couldn’t help but notice the red tint in his best friends eyes. He didn’t know that his reflected the same.

Minho reluctantly let go, and took a step back. Wordlessly, in just a look, Thomas read his mind.

_Go._

So, he did.

Thomas, with all the strength he could muster, walked back around the building and in sight of Newt. He walked over, trying to control his breathing. The sight of the blonde, with his injuries, made his heart skip a beat. Multiple beats.

Brenda was standing next to him, looking down at him and talking about something. He was smiling lazily up at her, eyes squinted against the sun. His hair, like always, twinkled in the sunlight. The everlasting halo was still perched atop his head, even after what he had been though.

Vince, Jorge and Harriet were standing a bit further off. They were looking around, looking for something. When they caught sight of Thomas, it was obvious that he was the one they had been looking for. They seemed to know that the first place he would go was to go see Newt.

He wished they would all fuck off for a moment.

As he approached, footsteps loud against the dirt floor, Newt’s head slowly tilted towards his direction. Before he could see his reaction, though, someone stepped in front of his path. Thomas halted in his tracks, his head flicking upward to catch sight of Vince. Vince opened his mouth to speak, looking determined, but Thomas wasn’t going to listen. Without warning, Thomas reached out and pushed Vince out of the way.

“What do you think you’re-“

Vince’s words seemed to go in one ear and out the other. Thomas was temporary deaf, the sight of Newt being so close was overwhelming and distracting. The blonde stared up at him from the chair, and his whole world seemed to blur around everything but the beautiful boy in front of him.

Newt’s face appeared to be skinnier - tired. He had bags under his eyes, and no color in his cheeks. He looked sick, just as Minho had warned him about. Even so, his eyes shone brightly up at Thomas. He was looking at him just as Thomas was in return.

Newt smiled up at him as he approached. His smile was weak, looked almost painful, and Thomas’s heart wrenched in his chest.

“Are you even listening to me?!” Vince spoke loudly behind him - angry beyond belief. He was appalled by Thomas’s reaction to him trying to speak. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“Fuck off for a moment, won’t you Vince?” Thomas said loudly, not taking the time to look back at him. Newt’s smile deepened then, his eyes sparking up at him.

The way Newt was looking at him, as if Thomas hung the galaxy around him, was enough for Thomas to feel at peace. Newt would be ok. He had to.

Thomas squatted next to the chair that Newt was occupying, placing his arm on his armrest. He looked up at him, smiling as much as he could and ignoring the stitches running up his arms. They were eye level to him now, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of the beautiful eyes looking down at him.

“Angry,” Newt teased, his voice small and weak. He sounded almost _drunk,_ the word not coming out all the way intact. He had the laziest smile on his face as his eyes smiled down at him. He was obviously very high from the pain medication.

The sound of his voice, after all of the worrying and anticipation, caused flames to erupt in his chest.

“You look like shit,” Thomas whispered, the words teasing but his voice soft. Newt smiled lazily down at him, remembering that those were the same words that he had told Thomas. His eyes sparkled at him.

“It’s hard for him to talk,” Brenda muttered, eyes on Thomas. She sounded hesitant, almost as if she knew that she was interrupting a moment between them. It must have been a sight to see - a side of Thomas that was hidden from everyone. He had never acted this emotional, soft, and open in front of anyone before. “He’s on a lot of meds.”

“I’ve heard,” Thomas muttered, eyes never leaving Newt’s. He reached out gently, fingers colliding with Newt’s soft hand. Thomas brushed his fingertips across the blondes knuckles, and felt weak fingers turn and wrap around his. “You’re pretty useless right now. Good thing you’re cute, huh?”

Thomas was rewarded with the biggest smile Newt could muster in his weak state. A blush rose to his cheeks, overtaking the pale complexion that he had a moment ago. He tilted his head gently away from Thomas, as if he was trying to hide his blush.

“God, I’ve never seen him blush. He must be really out of it.”

Thomas ignored her. How could he think about anything but Newt right now? Why was she even still here?

Just like always, Newt’s eyes hadn’t left him the whole time until this moment. He seemed to be entranced by the sight of Thomas - more than usual. He couldn’t stop staring until Thomas had made him shy. It left Thomas’s stomach a pool of emotions, and he was disappointed that he wasn’t looking at him anymore.

“Hey,” Thomas muttered, gently squeezing the blondes fingers. “Do you need anything?”

Newt slowly shook his head, still hiding his face, but Brenda spoke up.

“This is his first time outside, but it’s been long enough. Help me bring him back?”

“What if he doesn’t want to?” Thomas demanded, looking up at Brenda threateningly. She raised her hands in defense, rolling her eyes.

“Okay, whatever, Thomas. He’s been out here for a while but if you want him burning in the sun then that’s on you.” Brenda walked off, annoyed but understanding. He was going to be overprotective of him, she had been expecting it, but she hated when Thomas spoke back to her.

He turned his gaze back to Newt, slightly annoyed. He was still looking away, but the flush in his cheeks was gone now. He was back to being as pale as he had been before. His eyes also appeared a bit out of focus, as if he was in an entirely different universe.

“Newt?”

No response. Thomas laughed gently, squeezing his fingers. His poor, high off of medication best friend. _“Newt.”_

Still nothing.

“You big baby.”

The pet name had fallen from his lips without him even noticing. He had only realized what he had called the blonde when Newt finally turned his head. His eyes were wider than normal, and he stared down at Thomas with flushed cheeks once more.

Thomas flushed with him this time. He glanced away, looking back at the rest of the group behind him. They were all in a heated conversation, and apparently Vince was still angry about something. Like always.

“Again.”

Newt’s voice was small, and very weak, and hearing it surprised Thomas. He turned back to Newt, his cheeks still flushed, and realized the flush was still in his own cheeks as well. His eyes weren’t as wide anymore, but soft and full of emotion as he stared down at Thomas.

Thomas grinned up at him despite his embarrassment. “Big baby?”

Fingers squeezed onto his, tighter than Thomas expected. His grin widened up at Newt.

“Again.”

_“You big baby.”_

“Baby,” Newt whispered back, his voice still small. He was so high that the word seemed to slur off of his tongue, but it didn’t stop the butterflies from erupting in Thomas’s throat.

He knew that when he wasn’t high, Newt may be embarrassed by this moment, but he didn’t care. He was glad that he had made the mistake of calling him that.

“Mine?” Newt whispered, his fingers still holding tightly onto his. Thomas smiled up at him again, the flush still on both of their faces. His chest seized at the question. Of course he was. How could he not be?

“Always.”

“Thomas, get him inside or under the shade,” Minho’s voice sounded - cutting through the moment shared between them. Thomas glanced back, looking at the group once more behind them. Minho had a small smile on his face, despite the fact that he was scolding him. Brenda stood next to him, a teasing smirk on her face.

Know it all.

“Fine,” Thomas muttered, just loud enough for them to hear. He turned back to Newt, smiling once more. Just for him. “Ready to go in, handsome?”

Thomas’s teasing once again left his face scarlet. He turned his head away once more to hide the pink tinge to his cheeks - nodding.

He was gentle with Newt. Probably too gentle, but he didn’t care. He helped him stand, which took a bit longer than it should have. He held onto him gently, but firmly, as they walked into the hospital room behind them. Newt had apparently been sleeping in one of the cots for the past few days to be monitored, and it comforted Thomas immensely.

Getting Newt into bed was a challenge. Taking off Newt’s shoes was a _nightmare_ with how flimsy his long legs were becoming. He had apparently become very sleepy in the short time that Thomas had seen him, and he was already sluggish from his medication. He was leaning on Thomas the whole time, and Thomas tried not to dwell on that fact too much. He was scared that his heart would explode inside his chest if he wasn’t careful.

Even though he was high on pain medication, Newt didn’t stop _moving._

He couldn't keep his hands and eyes off of Thomas. He didn’t even seem to be watching where he was going, or pay much attention to what he was doing. As Newt sank into his cot, even as he lay down, his hands were on Thomas. On his shoulders, gripping his arms, touching the bare skin on his forearm. As soon as he was laying down, he even grabbed onto one of Thomas’s hands. It was his turn to blush as Newt stared up at him with hazy, wide eyes. He looked mesmerized.

He was looking at Thomas so much differently than he had before. He couldn’t catch what it was, but it was there. Something just below the surface.

Still holding onto his hand, Thomas used his free hand to adjust the pillow under the blondes head. He grabbed the soft blanket on the side of the cot as well, and clumsily threw it on over him.

He could feel Newt’s eyes on him the whole time.

As Thomas was about to straighten up after situating the blanket, Newt reached out with his free hand to grab his wrist. Fingers on his pulse, he pulled Thomas down with as much strength as he could muster.

Surprised, Thomas leaned down to meet him halfway. Eyes wide and cheeks burning, he received a kiss on the cheek. The blonde moved his head then, kissing the side of his mouth, and then his lips.

The skin that Newt’s lips touched seemed to scorch his skin. It left tingles throughout his body, and left him wanting more from the slow motions. He knew Newt hadn’t meant to be teasing, but he couldn’t help himself from a hunger growing in the pit of his stomach.

Thomas, breathless and giddy, let out a huff of breath from his nose. It had just been a quick peck, Newt weakly falling back onto the pillow, but he seemed to want more as well. He tugged at Thomas’s wrist again, demanding for him to join him on the bed.

Wide eyes stared up at him as he did so, adoring and wanting, and he still had that unknown look in his eyes.

Thomas bent forward, hovering over him. He dropped his head low, lips an inch from the blondes mouth.

Up close, Newt was even more beautiful. Those long lashes, the smooth and beautiful skin, the soft but sharp features on his face. His short hair spilled on the pillow under him, the sunlight casting through the window giving him an unreal glow. But Thomas’s favorite _those eyes!_ that were looking up at him made his heart flutter.

He felt a squeeze at his wrist, a demand for another kiss. Newt had furrowed his eyebrows as he grew more impatient. He was obviously feeling extremely weak still, and needed Thomas to make the move forward.

Thomas smiled down at the man he loved.

“Get better, and you can have all the kisses you want.”

Newt’s eyebrows furrowed more, and a small pout reached his lips. Thomas couldn’t help but laugh at that, pulling away from him. Newt’s fingers tightened into a death grip around his wrist, much stronger than Thomas had anticipated.

“Call it an incentive to get better faster,” Thomas said with a small and playful smile, shrugging. He was still aching at the sight of Newt so weak, but he kept the smile on his face anyway. He didn’t want the boy to worry. “Just get better. Please. For me.”

Newt rolled his eyes like a child, letting go of his wrist. Thomas swooped down and gave him a quick kiss at the corner of his mouth.

Newt turned his head once more to hide his blush.

 

-

 

Thomas finally met up with the rest of the group after Newt had fallen asleep. It took him only about two minutes - obviously having been extremely exhausted. The group had been talking, all huddled onto a picnic bench on the grass field. As Thomas approached, they all smiled weakly up at him.

It was strange seeing them all sitting together - everyone from The Scorch and Newt’s group. It was two worlds colliding, but in the best way possible. Everyone was there; Fry, Gally, Minho, Vince, Jorge, Brenda, Harriet, Sonya, Aris, and even Teresa.

The ones that were here were obviously getting the rest of the group up date. Knowing them, were also probably taking about strategies and what the could do if this happened again. They always were ten steps ahead.

“The soldiers here did great. The soldiers here did so great,” Brenda whispered as he approached, a proud smile on her face. She seemed breathless just thinking about that night. “We trained them perfectly. They did everything they were supposed to do. Every crank was killed.”

Thomas sat down next to her, sighing as he did so. It had been their worst nightmare, and it had happened. He couldn’t imagine how terrifying that night was.

They were lucky that Brenda, Jorge, Harriet, Aris, Minho, Newt and Gally were helping to train the soldiers as soon as they got here. Their intense knowledge of the outside world truly benefited them in the end.

“If we hadn’t come here, and they were going off of Rafael’s training, they would have all died,” Harriet muttered, glancing at Vince next to her. He nodded grimly. “Vince told us about their old strategies. The cranks would have taken over.”

“And they didn’t have the cure before us, either,” Jorge spoke up, sighing. “Only a few people got bitten, but were all given the cure if they didn’t have it already. Everyone’s good, Thomas. All thanks you.”

“It wasn’t all thanks to me. It was all you guys. Good job, everyone. Thank you.” He reached out and slapped an open palm again Gally’s back. Gally reached out and gave him a similar pat, a small smile on his face. He turned to look at Minho, who was sitting across the group. He was so proud of his best friends for stepping forward and taking lead. He looked around at everyone else - even smiled at Teresa. “You saved them. You saved...the world. I’m so proud to call all of you my friends. Thanks to all of you, everyone here is safe. I couldn’t be prouder.”

They all beamed back at him.

If it wasn’t for them, everyone in the Safe Haven would have been dead. The biggest population of the people left in this hell of a world would have been...gone. Done. It would have been the end for this world if they hadn’t come and trained their soldiers - if they hadn’t given them the cure. The last chance that this world had would have been buried under the dirt in The Scorch.  

“Aw, you’re making me blush,” Minho teased, bringing his hands up towards his face to cover it. Everyone laughed, and a warmth filled Thomas.

“The man who is shit at words and has reckless plans is actually speaking common sense for once?” Brenda teased, glancing over at him. He reached out and pinched her arm, causing her to yelp.

“We have to talk to you, though,” Gally spoke up towards Thomas, then glanced over at Minho. Minho’s face fell, suddenly looking reluctant.

Thomas, knowing Newt was alive and well, didn’t expect anything too bad. He nodded, rising to his feet.

Gally, Minho and Frypan followed suit. It was actually pretty funny that Fry did as well, considering he hadn’t been here and they hadn’t looked at him. But of course he was welcome - it was always the four of them.

“The brothers are back together,” Jorge teased. Thomas teasingly waved a hand at him as they walked away from the group. A long silence stretched, the boys walking with purpose. It was a strange thing - knowing that Minho and Gally knew something that Thomas and Fry didn’t. They had always been in the know about everything together, and the realization made Thomas anxious.

Before they could get much farther though, they were interrupted. Quick footsteps approached, causing the boys to quickly turn in place.

It was a young boy, one of the training soldiers. He was always bouncing on the balls of his feet, with a grin plastered on his face at all times. It was a rare occasion to see the mossy haired boy not smiling, so it was quite alarming to see that he looked grim. His eyes were only on Minho, staring up at him as he approached.

“Minho, sir, Mr. Rafael wants to talk to you.”

Minho cast his eyes sideways, looking quickly at Thomas. He took a deep breath before turning back to the boy. “Can you please tell him to wait? I’m in the middle of -“

“He told me that it can’t wait,” The boy said, his face still grim. “He needs you now.”

Thomas was curious. What was so important that Rafael would be desperate to speak to him? What couldn’t possibly wait until the morning? The sun was already falling around them, the sky tinted pink, and many people were already resting in their homes.

“He also said to bring Mr. Gally too,” The boy said, turning wide eyed to the bigger man. Gally, always angry and intimidating looking, must have made him feel nervous. Gally and Minho were relatively the same size, but Minho was much more approachable with his wit and sarcasm. “And Mr. Vince and Mr. Jorge.”

“Okay. Thank you, Dawson,” Minho sighed, reaching out and to slap an open palm on the youngers shoulder. The boy stared up at him in admiration before turning to scurry back into camp.

Thomas would always admire Minho for that. He was always giving the kids hope - made them feel special. He was a role model to a lot of the younger kids here at the Safe Haven, and he was a damn good one at that. They all looked up to him as if he was a rock star, and they were all his biggest fans.

They thought the same of Gally, obviously, but were more intimidated by him. They admired from afar, but still watched his every move with interest. Fry was awkward with kids, but they admired him just the same.

Newt, on the other hand, fascinated them. Word got around that he was a strong leader, and a great shot. They were interested in the newcomer, and wanted to know everything about him.

Newt was a force to be reckoned with. He shone brightly in a dull crowd, but was intimidating with how strong he was. He emitted strength and bravery just as the rest of the boys, but he was also so friendly and charming. He captivated everyone.

Thomas didn’t know that the kids saw something in him, too. They all knew he was the leader of their group, and made the world around them a safe place once more. They all looked up to him, and not just the children. He was unapproachable for the most part, though, since he enjoyed his solitude. Well, his solitude plus his best friends.

“Later,” Gally muttered, sighing as well. He turned to Thomas and gave him a weak smile. “10 bucks it’s about you. I heard you pulled some crazy stunt out there.”

“I did what I needed to,” Thomas shot back, shrugging his shoulders. Gally weakly smiled at him once more, running his hands through his short hair. Little did Thomas know, but the boys standing around him admired him just as much as the younger kids did with them.

“You always do, greenie.”

 

-

 

Thomas ended up going back to the small hospital after the boys departed to go find Rafael. Thomas knew that it would be about him, and most likely about him being exiled. He knew it was a stupid stunt to pull out there - knew he was being irrational and irresponsible. Even if he was right.

He knew that he didn’t always think things through, and choking the leader of the Safe Haven was one of them. He only hoped that the soldiers would stand by him and keep up their grateful thoughts as they had before. His future and stay at the Safe Haven depended on it.

Trying not to think too much about it, Thomas set up a chair next to Newt’s bed.

Even the sight of him was comforting. The blonde was passed out, long limbs sprawled across the bed. He had a thin layer of sweat coating his skin, but overall looked peaceful. Thomas was glad that he was getting some sleep, especially with how much pain he was currently in.

The ugly bites littered across Newt's skin scared Thomas. They were a sign of the past, with the cure running in Newt's veins, but the sight still terrified him. It reminded him how close he was to losing him again. It reminded him about everything that they had gone through.

There was only one nurse in there, and a few sleeping patients. There were a few more people who had been hurt in the attack, but Thomas couldn’t catch sight of them. They were all separated by a small sheet around their individual bed. It gave them the little privacy that they all desperately needed.

“He will be off all pain medication soon,” The nurse said as she handed him a small pillow and a blanket. Thomas thanked her, and noticed how beautiful she was. She had long, dark braided hair, and beautiful dark skin. She had long limbs and a gorgeous smile. “There will be a rough few days ahead, but I know he will manage. He’s been great, and a wonderful patient.”

Despite her helping Newt heal, he couldn’t help but feel the jealousy flare inside of him. His skin crawled at the possibility of Newt finding her attractive. Sure, he was attracted to Thomas, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t attracted to girls as well. And this girl, with how beautiful she was, was a big threat in Thomas’s mind.

“You’re lucky to have him,” She continued, smiling down at Thomas. His heart skipped a beat in his chest. “And he’s lucky to have such a caring boyfriend.”

“Uh…” Thomas turned his head to look down at Newt. _Boyfriend._ His heart, still beating frantically, jumped to his throat. His hands began to sweat. “He spoke about me?”

“Nothing too embarrassing,” The nurse assured him, the kind smile still on her face. “He’s been pretty loopy from his medication. Couldn’t stop talking about you.”

Thomas’s face flushed. He gripped at the blanket, attempting to busy his shaking hands. He glanced down at the beautiful blonde once more. He really spoke about him?

“Well...yeah. I am. He’s…” He glanced up at the girl, and took comfort in her kind eyes. He said the words aloud for the first time without hesitation. “I love him.”

“I’m glad you’re here for him then,” She said, laughing. She didn’t seem to notice the shaking in his hands - hear the loud beating of his heart. She had no idea how monumental this moment was for Thomas - finally admitting his feelings aloud. Sure, everyone knew of this, but he had never spoken the words. “He needs to take a shower in the morning, would you like to help him? Or will I?”

“I can,” Thomas said quickly, almost a bit too quickly. She laughed a small, beautiful laugh and beamed at him.

“I thought you might say that.”

 

-

 

Thomas ended up falling asleep with his head on the mattress, right next to Newt’s chest. He had somehow fallen forward as he sat in the chair, and found comfort on the soft material of his sheets. The warmth, even though Newt must have a small fever, was comforting.

Being so close to Newt, after all those months of missing him, kept him anchored.

He never thought he would be able to do this again.

“Tommy?” A gentle tap on the top of his head.

Thomas continued to sleep soundly, his deep breathing coming out in soft snores. The tap had done nothing to stir him awake.

“Tommy.” A poke to the top of his head this time, much harder than the first.

He groaned, burrowing his head into the mattress. Gentle fingers slowly began to run through his hair, pushing his hair from his forehead, and his skin erupted in goosebumps.

“I feel bloody awful waking you, but my throat is killing me...could you get me some water? Please?”

Thomas shot up, the question waking him completely. He was thrown back into the real world and big, beautiful, guilt filled eyes stared back at him. It took him a moment to register where he was, and why he was there, but only a moment. The next moment he was on his feet.

“There’s a pitcher there,” Newt said, weakly pointing across the room. Thomas spun, quickly scrambling across the room to the pitcher that was on the nurse's table. He grabbed the cold pitcher, poured water inside of a small paper cup, and quickly returned to Newt.

As he reached Newt, he realized that the blonde looked much more tired than he had before. There were dark bags under his gorgeous, now heavy lidded eyes. The stitches were ugly against Newt's beautiful skin. Despite his appearance, and the way his body was weakly propped up against the wall behind him, Newt smiled up at him. Thomas gave him a hesitant smile back as he reached forward to hand the cup to Newt.

“Ah, you might want to…” Newt’s fingers shook as he attempted to hold the small paper cup. Thomas gingerly took the shaking cup out of his hands, saving the water from spilling, and sat back down next to the blonde. “How embarrassing. Can’t even hold a fucking cup.”

“Not embarrassing at all,” Thomas argued, sending him a smile. He slid forward, to the edge of the seat, and held the small cup near his lips. Newt rolled his eyes playfully before opening his mouth, allowing Thomas to gently pour a small amount of water in. “You’re talking a lot today, and that’s a lot better -”

Well, maybe he poured a bit too _much_ water. Newt choked, spraying water everywhere. Thomas, face now soaked, jerked back in surprise. Newt’s loud laughter rang through the hospital, and it seemed to fill the air will happiness and relief. The sound was something that Thomas had missed so much more than he had realized.

“Bloody fuck,” Newt gasped, coughing and laughing at the same time. His eyes, bloodshot from coughing, were smiling at Thomas as he wiped the water from his face. “Got you in the eye there, didn’t I Tommy?”

Thomas’s face burned. He got up to refill the cup, hands shaking in embarrassment.

“Maybe not pour me the whole damn cup this time?” Newt teased, voice hoarse from coughing. He cleared his throat as Thomas reapproached, cheeks pink and eyes alight with happiness.

“Want to do it yourself?” Thomas teased back, although his face was still pink as well. Newt reached out to weakly pinch his arm as Thomas sat. His grip was weak and lazy - almost as if he was weaker than he had been before his nap.

“You would never make me,” Newt sighed, lazily shaking his head as he stared at him with a smile.

“I wouldn’t,” Thomas admitted, reaching out towards the blonde’s lips again. Newt leaned forward, ready for another attempt at drinking. Newt took a small sip, eyes on him over the rim. “Just sit there and look pretty.”

Newt almost choked again, eyes widening at him as he forced the mouthful down. He pulled away, eyes narrowing as Thomas grinned at him. He lowered the cup once more, careful not to spill anything.

“What?”

“Look pretty?”

“Oh yes. Very pretty,” Thomas teased. Newt rolled his eyes again, but his cheeks were stained a light pink. He obviously didn’t remember the small back and forth they had last night, where Thomas had complimented him as well. He could get used to the color of Newt’s cheeks this way. He should compliment him more often. “Unless you’d like me to say handsome instead? Radiant? Breathtaking? Stunning? You can choose.”

“You’re lucky I’m too weak to hit you,” Newt muttered, adjusting his back on the wall. He squinted his eyes once more at Thomas, although they held nothing but a playful shyness.

Newt reached out, palm attempting to hit his arm, but he easily caught it halfway. Thomas raised it to quickly kiss the blonde’s knuckles.

Before Thomas could return his hand to him, those long fingers uncurled from his. Newt reached out, gently brushing his fingertips across Thomas’s jaw. His eyes sparkled at him from across the small space in between them.

Newt stared at him for a few moments. The intensity of his gaze, and the way his fingertips traced his face, left Thomas’s soul emitting fireworks inside of him.

New took a deep breath, eyes flickering between the two of his.

“Tommy, I-”

The sound of the hospital door opening broke the moment between them. Thomas straightened his back, turning to look around the bed divider. Newt’s hand dropped onto the bed between them.

Frypan was standing there, looking lost, with a small bowl of food in his hands. His eyes lit up when he saw Thomas, and he began walking quickly towards them. As he rounded the small bed divider, his eyes finally landing on Newt, he beamed.

“Hey, you.”

“Fry,” Newt breathed, looking up at him as if it was the first time he had seen him in years. He grinned up at his best friend, and Thomas couldn’t help noticing that his eyes were still a bit bloodshot from before.

“You look worse than I thought,” Frypan teased, smirking down at him.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you,” Newt teased back, straightening his back and giving him a dirty look. Frypan chuckled, grinning down at the blonde.

“You only missed my delicious cooking,” Frypan laughed. Instead of handing the hot bowl to Newt, he held it out to Thomas. Thomas thanked him as he grabbed the small bowl, giving his best friend a small smile. It was a soup that Thomas didn’t recognize, but it smelled wonderful.

“Mate, if only you knew,” Newt teased back, grinning up at him lazily. His head flopped weakly around as he did so, and it caused Thomas’s chest to tighten.

Newt was still so _weak,_ but he didn’t act like it. He refused to show any weakness despite the immense pain that he was probably in. He was all smiles and teasing, as always.

“How do you feel?”

“Like shit.”

“Look it, too,” Fry teased, dodging the quick fist that Thomas swung at him. The three of them laughed, and the air in the room seemed to lighten even more than before.

“It’s great to see you, mate,” Newt muttered, his smile fading slightly. He stared up at Fry for a few moments before turning his attention to the hot soup in Thomas’s hands. “What is that?”

“Miso soup. It’s Japanese, I think,” Fry shrugged. He reached out to pat Newt on the shoulder. “Enjoy. See you two later.”

“See you,” Thomas and Newt said in unison. Newt watched him leave as Thomas loaded up the first spoon full. It _did_ smell amazing. Thomas took a taste of the soup, eyes glancing up at Newt over the spoon.

The blonde pretended to be offended, scoffing playfully. “I believe that’s mine.”

Thomas laughed. He dipped the spoon back inside of the soup, and raised both the bowl and the spoon to Newt. “I was checking to see if it was too hot.”

“Sure you were.”

After eating, Newt became extremely tired. His eyes began to droop once more, and he began to speak less and less. The nurse, seeing this, told Thomas that the pain may be getting to him. She decided that they should wait until he wakes up for a shower, and brought over a small portable CD player instead.

It looked very old, running off of batteries that were put in through the back. Soft, gentle music began flowing through the small speakers as she placed it down on the bedside table. It was very comforting, and Newt’s eyes drooped lower immediately.

It looked exactly like the one that they had found in the abandoned library.

Thomas’s heart ached at the memory. He thought of them dancing together in the ruined library, dead bodies littered across the top floor. This world sure was bittersweet.

When he thought Newt had finally fallen back asleep, he decided to adjust the blanket around the blonde. Thomas stood up, chest aching from the memories dancing around in his mind. The instrumental music played as Thomas covered every inch of Newt with a soft, fluffy blanket.

Pleased with his work, Thomas then moved to adjust the blonde’s pillow. He straightened his back, hands reaching out towards the pillow. When he caught sight of the blonde’s eyes open, though, he stopped midway.

As Newt stared at him across the small between them, Thomas _knew._

They spoke without words. That was always _their_ thing, being able to communicate with just a look. They were always in sync, always on the same page.

Those beautiful eyes stared at Thomas just like they always used to.

_Like they always used to._

  
  
  


 

**Before**

The Failed Mission

 

Okay, maybe jumping onto a train wasn’t Thomas’s brightest idea. And maybe Newt was absolutely _livid_ by the idea. Did that stop Thomas, though? No. Of course not. He never was the brightest.

He wasn’t surprised that Newt was upset at him. He had given him a sharp, quick hug before they split up for the mission. It was an angry hug, but a meaningful one, and it left a guilty feeling in the pit of Thomas’s stomach. Thomas never treated these missions like the last time he would see Newt - he couldn’t handle that. But this time felt different. He would hate himself if something had happened this time around.

Even though it was a stupid idea, it had worked. Too bad the plan itself hadn’t.

When they had reached their campsite after the failed mission, with all of those new kids, Thomas couldn’t keep still. He felt so disappointed in himself. He felt like a failure of a leader and a failure to Minho. They had been so close - _so close_ \- and he had slipped right through their fingers.

Could he do anything right? He had let his best friend get taken by WCKD, had failed to get him back, and had allowed Newt to get the flare.

He and Newt would later have their sad discussion - Thomas crying in front of him.

 

_“You are strong enough. You're strong enough for anything. You can do this. You’re the best leader, Thomas,” Newt muttered. Thomas felt his hands shaking, his knees shaking, his heart stuttering to a stop. It was all too much. Seeing the man that he loved in front of him, knowing that he would be gone soon, was too much for him to handle. “You don’t need to be leader, though, Thomas. You can always leave this. You can always-“_

_“Let’s run away,” Thomas pleaded. His vision was blurring more by the second. He didn’t even realize that it was tears that were blurring his vision until Newt’s gentle fingers came up to brush them away. Newt dropped his wrist and used both hands to wipe away the tears - used both hands to cup Thomas’s face. Newt was suddenly just a step away from him._

_“Where do you want to go?” Newt asked, eyes searching Thomas’s face as he lost his composure. Thomas couldn’t see his own face - couldn’t see the shaking lips and teary eyes. He couldn’t see how his whole body shook and how his breathing was heaving his chest up and down rapidly. “We can go anywhere. Just name it. I’ll take you there.”_

_“Away. Away from here. Away from all of this.”_

_“Okay,” Newt whispered. His voice sounded broken to Thomas’s ears, and through his own tears, he couldn’t see Newt’s had begun to fall. “Okay, let’s go then. You and me, okay?”_

_“You and me,” Thomas repeated in a whisper, his panic attack still intensely coursing through his body. Newt kept wiping the tears streaming down Thomas’s face away with his thumbs, hands still cupping his cheeks with his warm hands. “Please. Please don’t…”_

_“I’d follow you anywhere,” Newt muttered, thumbs still dragging away the tears on Thomas’s cheeks. “You already know that, Tommy.”_

_“But you can’t this time,” Thomas whispered. He closed his eyes, the pain beginning to be too overwhelming. His voice was now far away - trapped somewhere between them. “You can’t follow me this time.”_

_Newt didn’t respond. He just kept wiping away the tears until Thomas could breathe again._

 

Right now, in this moment before his sadness could take over, he was livid with anger. He was so disappointed in himself that it was hard to breathe. He didn’t even feel as if he deserved to breathe.

God, he was such a fuck up.

To clear his mind, to be angry in solitude, he had walked away from his group. He walked around the old, abandoned building that the rescued kids were currently huddled in, and walked into a secluded area with chopped down and withered tree stumps littered around. It had obviously been a little hang out spot for the old residents who occupied this abandoned building, but Thomas was using it to sulk.

Thomas kept running his hands angrily through his hair, tempted to grab on and yank. He felt as if he deserved the pain - deserved _something_ bad to happen to him. He was experiencing an itch that he couldn’t scratch, and he desperately wanted relief.

He decided to slam a foot against one of the old tree stumps, rejoicing in the pain that shot up his leg in the process.

“Poor stump,” A voice rang out behind him, startling him. Thomas turned, although he didn’t need to in order to know who was behind him. Newt stood there, a sad smile on his face.

Thomas’s chest burned at the sight of him.

“I know you’re still mad at me, but please. Not right now.” His voice was pleading, and he hoped that Newt could see the pain in his eyes.

He always had been able to, anyway. He was always able to read right through Thomas. His eyes were always on him.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Newt muttered, raising his hands up in a defensive position. His eyes burned into Thomas’s - hesitant. “I promise.”

“I’m sorry,” Thomas whispered, turning away from Newt. He couldn’t stand to see the look in his eyes - almost as if he was nervous to talk to him. Newt’s opinion meant so much to him.

“Don’t be,” Newt sighed. Thomas was surprised that he had even heard him since he had whispered. He heard his footsteps gently approaching - still hesitant. “Nothing to be sorry for.”

“I do have things to be sorry for,” Thomas disagreed, eyes still cast away from his best friend. Newt had walked up right behind him, just out of reach. “I ruined everything and made you upset.”

“I was just worried,” Newt admitted, taking another step forward. He hesitantly for a moment too long. “You know I...you know I worry about you.”

Thomas’s heart lurched. He wanted to take a look over his shoulder and see Newt’s expression. His voice had wavered - hesitated on the words. He had been nervous to say it.

“And you didn't ruin everything,” Newt added. He took a step around Thomas and sat on one of the ruined stumps, one of the much larger ones.

He sighed like an old man as he sat - knees even cracking as he did so. Their bodies were so overworked and worn out. Newt’s eyes, though, as they looked up at him, were nothing close to worn out. They shone bright with emotion.

“I…” Thomas trailed off, taking a deep breath. He walked forward, sitting down on the stump next to Newt. It had been a large tree, but not large enough for the two of them. Their sides pressed together, and Thomas felt that fire rise in his chest and a tightness in his abdomen. His shoulder and arm, pressed against Newt’s long sleeve, tingled.

The fact that Newt had to now wear long sleeves in this insane heat made his heart ache.

“We will get him back, you know,” Newt said confidently, turning his head to look at Thomas. Thomas stared down at their dirty, worn out jeans and beaten up boots. Newt’s thigh was an inch away from his, and he could practically feel the electricity roll through them. He wanted to reach out and brush the dirt off of Newt’s pants.

“You think so?” Thomas muttered, his voice betraying him.

“I don’t have a doubt in my mind,” Newt admitted, face much too close to his. Thomas swore he felt his warm breath splay across his cheek and neck. His mind was in shambles. “I promise you we will. He will be fine, and we will get him. Eventually.”

Newt knocked his knee against Thomas’s gently, reassuring and comforting. As his leg returned into his normal position, though, Thomas shifted his leg to press against Newt’s in return. He couldn’t help it. He didn’t even feel embarrassed - desperate for the comfort in the blondes warmth.

Newt sucked in a sharp breath. Unknown to Thomas, he was shocked at the boldness of his move.

Thomas was always confusing him with the small actions that he did - always only to Newt. He never took the time out of his day to do the same to anyone else. It was subtle - his actions - and almost impossible to notice. But Newt did. Of course he did.

Thomas didn’t act the same towards everyone else. He was subtle about it, but the signs were there. He never touched Frypan. Never was close enough to touch at all, let alone reaching out and finding comfort in him. He never spoke to him either, never confided in him like he did Newt. He had always been so bad with his words with everyone else. He never ate dinner with Frypan - so close that he could always feel his body heat. He never looked at Fry as soon as something happened - never turned to him first in any situation. He didn’t sleep next to Frypan - off to the side and away from everyone else. He didn’t read late into the night with Frypan, using a stolen flashlight under the blankets. It was Newt. It had always been Newt.

Newt was confused. He didn’t know if Thomas just felt more comfortable with him than anyone else, or if it was something more. The actions were so small, barely noticeable, but it drove Newt insane. Everything that the brunette did drove him insane. He couldn’t help it. Even if Thomas _was_ too busy to notice, Newt had always been in love with him.

He thought that maybe Thomas was too busy to notice. That maybe Thomas didn't even realize that he treated Newt differently. He already had so much on his plate already. His thoughts couldn’t possibly have time to think about him, right?

Newt concluded, as always, that he was reading too much into things. He was imagining the possibility of a double meaning to each of his best friends actions.

There was no way that a man like Thomas could ever possibly like him. He was more attractive than every single person that Newt had ever seen. _Combined._ He had an amazing body - lean muscles and a broad back and strong shoulders. Arms with veins running up them, and strong hands. His slightly tan skin always glowed beautifully under the sunlight. Newt always wished that he could be a few shades darker like Thomas.

He also had the perfect hair, and the most adorable freckles under his ear and splayed across his jaw. Newt had always wanted to kiss the one closest to his mouth. It was a recurring dream of his.

Best of all, he had the most beautiful eyes. Fucking _breathtaking_. They hung the galaxy in them, a lighter brown with flecks of green if you looked close enough.

Newt decided that the color of Thomas’s eyes was his favorite color.

Not only was he physically attractive to Newt, but his personality was something to die for. He was so manly, strong, brave, and determined. He was scary and intimidating when it came to enemies. It was sexy to see him so driven.

On the other hand, the best of both worlds, he was caring, kind, selfless and not afraid to show his emotions. Granted, it took him awhile to speak about them, but he wasn’t afraid to show his weaknesses. That in itself made him the least weak person that Newt had ever met.

He always went out of his way for everyone, without a moment’s hesitation, and did the most he could. On top of that he made Newt feel _special._

Wanted.

Loved.

So yes, he had to be imagining things. Someone like Thomas could never possibly feel anything for someone like Newt...even if Thomas seemed to not like touching people - always keeping a great distance from everyone. He only stood close Newt.

“We will find him. Trust me. And you will do a bloody fantastic job leading him to us.”

With his self control out of the window, and his mind full of confusion, Newt moved his arm. He readjusted the arm pressed against him and wrapped it behind Thomas’s body to place his palm against his lower back. Newt tried to ignore the electricity running down his leg that was now pressed against Thomas’s - tried to ignore the lean muscles on his lower back that left Newt wanting to run his fingers across them.

Thomas moved his head gently then, finally turning to look over at Newt. He was suddenly close - too close.

The side of his face was so close to Newt’s that if he wanted to, he could lean forward and press his lips against the freckle near his mouth. He could finally live his constant dream of moving three inches forward and making contact with his soft skin.

Their faces, only inches apart, left both of their abdomens tight and their breathing to slow and heavy. They were so close that they could hear the other person's breath in the small space between them. The sight of Thomas’s chest heaving - so close to Newt - left his mind reeling and blank at the same time.

This had to be another moment that Newt was imagining. This couldn’t be a special moment between them. He had to be imagining the way that Thomas’s eyes flickered up to his, his stare so intense that it left his knees wobbly and weak. The galaxies in those eyes twinkled...suddenly much closer than they had been a moment ago.

Newt had to be imagining the few inches between them decreasing. He was too captivated by the green flakes in his eyes. He had to be imagining that he was close enough to even _see_ the green -

“Hey, there you two - _oh.”_

Frypans voice rang out, but quickly cut off. Simultaneously, Newt and Thomas both moved their heads - moved away from each other. Newt couldn’t help but keep his hand on his lower back.

Newt’s days were dwindling down, and he knew it. He wasn’t sure he would ever be able to do this again. The appearance of Fry wasn’t going to stop him.

Frypan looked embarrassed for a moment, but quickly went back to his normal self. Except, of course, that he was suddenly too interested in the scenery around them. He didn’t settle his eyes on them again.

“Sorry. Just wanted to…” He trailed off and laughed uneasily. Thomas could feel Newt’s touch searing through his t-shirt as Frypan walked over to them. He lowered himself onto a stump near the two, knees cracking and a heavy sigh escaping his lips. A young old man, too.

“Hey, mate. Doing alright?”

In that moment Thomas realized that Newt had only called him ‘mate’ the first night they met. He hadn’t called him that since, despite always calling the rest of their group that. Even Brenda.

“Yeah, just a bit bummed.” Fry finally looked up at them, seeming to overcome his embarrassment of interrupting the two. Thomas didn’t care about his and Newt’s close proximity, though. He was too comforted by it to care. The day had been way too long already.

His eyes met Thomas.

“I may have been good at my job in The Glade, but I still messed up. The consequences don’t hit as heavy, of course, but we all fuck up sometimes,” Fry said, his eyes still locked on Thomas. He gave a small smile, his eyes shining brightly.

He seemed to know exactly how Thomas would feel after the failed mission. He was truly one of his best friends. Thomas’s heart ached at the realization.

“I still sometimes put too much salt in my food - maybe burned a few pieces of pork. But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t good at it. We all have bad days. Your plan worked today - it was flawless. It was Janson and Ava who fucked it sideways. Not you.”

Thomas couldn’t help but smile gently back. The weight on his shoulders and chest was lifting - becoming less of a burden. The feeling of Newt’s hand and the kind words from Frypan left him feeling much better. Much more accepting of himself. The weather even seemed to turn - the heat becoming bearable by a small wind that began sweeping through The Scorch. Next to him, Newt’s hair ruffled in the breeze.

“You’re a leader, Thomas. Always have been and always will be. I mean, no wonder you sucked at everything else in The Glade,” Frypan said, earning a loud laugh from Newt. Thomas couldn’t help but grin. “Your talents were completely different than those jobs there. That’s why you sucked. You were too busy being good at something else.”

“Thanks, Fry,” Thomas whispered, words heavy in his mouth. Frypan smiled and reached over to slap an open palm against his back, narrowly missing Newt’s.

“You’re good, boss. We got your back. We will find Minho. Don’t give up on yourself.”

And with that he stood. He walked off, and headed back towards the building. Thomas was grateful that he seemed to know how he was feeling without him having to speak another word. His chest, although feeling much lighter, still felt too heavy to speak.

Newt’s fingertips on his lower back gently squeezed. He brought him back to reality, and Thomas glanced back at him.

Those beautiful eyes shone brightly back at him. Newt’s hair ruffled in his breeze, and caused a pink tint to his cheeks.

Newt didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. His eyes said it all.

They stayed there, sitting under the darkening sky, until Newt stood and stretched his long limbs like a cat. The silence and comfort had left Thomas feeling a million times better than he had before. He was so thankful to have someone like Newt in his life. He didn’t know how he had gotten so lucky.

Newt’s arms raised high, fingers interlocking. He stretched out his long arms, moving his back as he did so. The amount of things that cracked at the action made Thomas let out a small laugh. Newt turned to smile at him, dropping his arms to his sides.

“Leave me alone.”

Thomas got his karma when he got up to stretch as well, and his joints cracked louder than Newt’s had.

 

-

 

That night, after a long dinner and a lot of introductions, Thomas pulled his sleeping bag closer to Newt’s than he ever had before. He pulled it right up to his, so close that they were touching on the dirty floor of the abandoned building.

Newt was surprised by this. They always had slept much closer than anyone else in their group, but never this close. Especially not in front of a bunch of strangers.

Thomas didn’t seem to mind that they were surrounded by people, though. He crawled into his sleeping bag, moving sluggishly. He seemed to already be half asleep, just as Newt had been. The sudden close proximity of Thomas had woken him completely, though.

Newt was on his back in his own sleeping bag, already preparing to drift off to sleep. As Thomas curled in next to him though, turning on his side to face him, Newt felt a fire rage through his body. He had never pulled himself this close before, and Newt’s mind to swarm with confusion. _What was he doing?_

Why did he always confuse Newt?

Without hesitation, and without saying a word to Newt, Thomas curled into him. He pressed his forehead against the top of Newt’s arm, and gingerly folded a hand around the crease in his elbow.

Newt’s skin erupted in goosebumps. It was as if a sudden breeze had blown through the abandoned building, flowing freely in the folds on his sleeping bag. The bare skin at the crease of his elbow scorched at the warmth of Thomas’s palm.

He knew that the closeness was a tell tale sign that Thomas wasn’t feeling too great. He had done the same thing in Janson’s facility when he had been having his panic attack. He seemed to fold into himself, not wanting to unravel until he felt better. And Newt was more than happy to be there for him until he did so.

The thought of Thomas doing this to anyone else was comical. Newt couldn’t imagine that in a million years. Thomas was so weird with touching anyone else but him. The thought caused his chest to tighten, and a small smile to find its way onto his face.

Even if Thomas didn’t feel the same as him, Newt was still his special person. It was the most amazing feeling in the world.

His soft brunette hair tickled Newt’s arm. Tickled a bit too much, actually. Newt reached out hesitantly, with shaking hands, and pushed back the hair from his best friends face. The feeling of his soft hair against his fingertips was mesmerizing. The fact that Thomas leaned into the touch was even more so.

As if comforted by the touch, Thomas moved his fingers. They grazed down the crease in his elbow, down and down until they reached the bite.

Newt held his breath at the contact. Thomas knew what was there.

Thomas knew that he was dying.

The only time that Newt was able to wear short sleeves now was at night, under the protection of the sleeping bag. If anyone else saw what was on his arm, Newt would be killed.

Thomas, though, was different. Newt knew that. Instead of quickly moving away from the bite, his fingertips began tracing the wounded area. Caressing it. He was blindly going over the darkened patches of skin - blindly tracing the dark veins.

Newt’s heart swelled. He let out the breath that he had been holding, and it felt like breathing for the first time. It felt as if he was exhaling all the bad in the world - all the bad in himself.

They fell asleep like that, comforting one another, with Thomas’s forehead pressed against his arm and his fingers on Newt’s skin.

Neither of them seemed to even notice the eyes of the newcomers on them. They also didn’t seem to notice the small smile and the shake of Frypan’s head at the sight - the murmuring under his breath at the two.

_“Morons.”_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unedited as always because I'm TRASH
> 
> I'm so so so sorry for the long wait! I was helping my sister move out of her university, and I was also changing my medication after a misdiagnosis. Being off of meds and on another is pretty rough.  
> It's been a long few weeks, and this chapter still came out crappy.  
> Yikes :(
> 
> The last chapter got the most amount of kudos that I have ever received between chapters. I was in shock to see so many of you!! As always, I appreciate you all so so so much. Numbers never mean anything to me, but every single one of you mean everything to me.
> 
> Talking to you all and meeting you all is my favorite thing. You all are the best people on this website. I'm so lucky to have you all here and have so many wonderful friends <33 Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read, comment and talk to me! It means the absolute world and more. Trust me! I feel so loved and inspired. You all keep me going. 
> 
> Since there are a lot of new readers, come say hi if you'd like! i would love to get to know all of you <3
> 
> And everyone be jealous of Aga, who was in Norway.  
> She deserves the best things in life, and I hope she gets to travel more soon!
> 
> ALSO, RIP to Shelby's phone.  
> She dropped it in a public toilet.  
> That is all.
> 
>  
> 
> All my love,  
> amy xxxx
> 
>  
> 
> ...  
> ((sorry for the lame chapter. kind of a filler. kind of me failing at life as usual))


	19. not an update.

 

 

 

Hi.

 

I'm sorry for the long wait. I'm sorry for not responding to all of my messages yet. I will get to them soon. I am so thankful for every single one. I'm sorry.

 

Things haven't been going too great. This is the most... rock bottom I've ever felt, and I've hit it quite a lot. So, please forgive the long lag. I don't feel like myself anymore, and I don't feel happy anymore. I'm scared. I think it's time I get some help. 

 

I plan on finishing this fic, and I hope you will all stay around for it. I understand if you don't. 

 

I will delete this chapter when I update again. 

 

I'm sorry. 

 

Amy. 


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